As I finally stumbled near the edge of the woods an hour later, the scenery shifted so abruptly it felt like walking into another world. The suffocating green of the forest gave way to a bleak, barren wasteland. When I was near the invisible wall that trapped the shades, the woods were lively, albeit in a creepy, plastic plant sort of way. The further I went, the more welcoming nature had become.
Here near the edge of the woods, though, skeletal trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their twisted branches lifeless and brittle, as though something had wrung every last drop of vitality from them. It was like trading a taxidermy of trees to flat out dead ones—a cruel joke of nature. A bit of a paradox, I thought, considering that stepping from death seemed to not indicate the lush delicacies of life.
But beyond the withered treeline, the bleakness melted into something softer. Rolling meadows stretched far into the horizon, dotted with lonely trees that swayed gently in the breeze. The grass sparkled like waves on an emerald sea, and tiny creatures darted in the distance. It looked peaceful, almost inviting—if I ignored the pit in my stomach reminding me how vulnerable it all felt.
Just before the forest spat me out into open land, I noticed something out of place—a wooden bench, perfectly pristine, surrounded by patches of vibrant wildflowers. It was almost too perfect. Suspicious, even. My nerves, still frayed from the forest, had me scanning the area for traps or ambushes. Nothing. Just the bench. If this was a divine prank, it was a strangely considerate one.
Shrugging off my paranoia, I gave in to exhaustion and slumped onto the seat. The moment I sat down, the world seemed to hold its breath. My aches dulled, my worries faded, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself relax. I hadn’t realized how much I needed the break until I was in the middle of taking it. It felt as though just for the moment, all of my burdens and worries came off my back to take a seat by my boots.
My gaze drifted to the gauntlet on my arm. The gem embedded in it glowed faintly red, pulsing in a rhythm that felt disturbingly alive—like a heartbeat. Was it mine, or hers? Ichni had gone quiet, retreating into her soul prison without so much as another snarky comment. Maybe she was sulking. Maybe she was just tired. Either way, the silence was starting to itch.
“Hey,” I muttered, tilting the gauntlet toward me. The gem flickered in response—or maybe I just imagined it. Either way, I decided to push forward.
“I’ve been thinking,” I started, my voice quieter than I expected. “I know you didn’t ask for this, and I didn’t exactly give you a choice. Dragging you back like this... it wasn’t fair.”
No response. Just the gentle sigh of the breeze brushing past me. For a moment, I thought I felt a chill on my shoulder, but I shook it off as my imagination.
“I don’t know what comes next,” I admitted, letting out a long breath. “But I’ll figure it out. The Four-Lights said I need to find their shrines—or whatever they are. That’s step one.”
Sluggishly, as though the glove had been held to a candle, it began to smolder as smoke came out from under the gem. It spiraled lazily upward, then thickened and condensed, drifting like mist before finally taking shape. Ichni emerged, perched dejectedly on the backrest of the bench. She looked smaller than before, her usually sharp demeanor dulled by fatigue. But her expression? Oh, that still carried every ounce of her usual bite.
“Those are where Father’s chains are,” she said, crossing her arms with a bitter look. “Do you seriously plan on freeing that fu’rorem psychopath?”
“Fu’rorem?” I echoed, the unfamiliar word tripping off my tongue.
“It’s demonic for, uh… ‘crazy.’” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Sorry, it slips out when I’m angry. Or, honestly, whenever I feel like it.” She flicked her hand dismissively, but the edge in her tone didn’t soften.
I bit back the urge to point out that calling someone a ‘crazy psychopath’ was as redundant as calling water ‘wet.’ She was actually talking to me, and for now, that felt like enough of a win.
“Well, freeing him doesn’t exactly sound like the best idea,” I admitted, scratching the back of my head. “But I’ve got to break those chains to free the light spirits trapped there. That’s the real goal.”
In my head, the plan seemed straightforward: kick down the door to some creepy stone fortress, pummel a few monsters, rip a massive chain off some iron-encased box, and let one of those glowing little spirits float free. Simple enough.
Ichni let out a snicker that grew into full-blown laughter. She leaned back, smirking as she bent her ghostly tail in. “You’re not actually that stupid, are you? Serious question. I haven’t figured it out yet.”
I felt the effort of restraint in my chest as I bit back my first response. “What?” was all I managed to sputter, sweat beading on my brow.
“No one’s even come close to scratching Father’s bindings,” she said matter-of-factly. “Never in a hundred years!”
“Has anyone tried?” I asked, half out of curiosity, half just to keep her talking.
Ichni’s smirk widened. “Oh, sure. Captain Princess-Killer gave it a shot once. You saw how he can swing that club. Dude is nothing but muscles under that lump of fur and gold. But when he yanked on those chains with all his might, his face went purple and... well, let’s just say he hit the brown note.”
“Wait, what?” I choked out.
“He crapped himself!” she clarified with no shame, laughing as she recalled the memory. “Full-on shit his drawers. He even murdered the guards afterward so no one would find out.”
The mental image hit me like a ton of bricks. A towering, battle-hardened Lion-Oger straining against a chain, face red as a tomato, only to soil himself and desperately try to cover it up. I burst out laughing with her. I suppose he and I had one thing in common, considering my untimely demise.
“Right? Devils, that was a fantastic day,” she said, her voice unusually chipper, a trace of a smile lingering on her dark magenta lips.
“So... if he killed all the guards,” I asked, narrowing my eyes, “how do you know what happened?”
“Psh, easy! I hid in a bush!” she declared, puffing out her chest like it was some grand accomplishment.
“You… hid in a bush,” I echoed, my voice dripping with skepticism.
“Yup!” She folded her arms smugly. “Hiding from Onshi was the one thing I excelled at. Well, was. Those naga trackers were faster than I had time to make a hideout.”
Her expression shifted, the lightness fading as the memory seemed to drag her into a somber silence. I felt the air grow heavy between us, but before I could say anything, she broke it.
“So... why do you want to free those light spirits?” she asked suddenly, her tone tinged with genuine curiosity.
““Well, they’re, uh...” I trailed off, frowning. In hindsight, I still wasn’t sure if they were really here. Maybe those lights I actually saw were just echoes—extensions of their true selves. More questions I couldn’t answer, which was becoming a frustrating trend.
“They saved me,” I finally said, choosing my words carefully. “Stopped you from disappearing, too. They recognized me as a Paladin and told me I was supposed to save them in order to save the world. That’s the gist.”
Ichni froze mid-perch, her casual pose shifting as she turned to look at me—really look at me. Her lips thinned, scanning me from head to toe like I’d just declared myself the biggest deal there is.
“You,” she said flatly, “a Paladin?”
Ah, there it was. I’d known this moment would come eventually. While I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of her learning my less-than-rosy history of fighting her kind, she deserved to know the truth. After all, she was stuck with me.
Her expression grew doubtful however as she managed to conclude something else entirely.
“Yeah, couldn’t you figure?” I mused, spreading my arms in my own mock grandeur. In fairness, she had a point—I looked more like a washed-up bandit than any champion of light.
She squinted, then started gesturing to different parts of my body, as if dissecting me with her eyes. Her finger stopped at my battered armor, then my gauntlet, then my messy hair. The look on her face was the kind reserved for someone unraveling an obvious lie.
“But where are the horse-blood markings? The skull shoulder pads? You don’t look like a Paladin at all!” she challenged heatedly.
I blinked, completely caught off guard. “I... horse blood? Skull shoulder pads?” I stammered, scrambling to process her words. “I think we’re picturing two very different things here.”
“Orrr,” she said, drawing out the word with a smug grin, “you just don’t actually know what a Paladin is. Try again, trash-can knight! If you apologize for lying to me right now, I might even forgive you!”
“I am a Paladin.” I drawled, trying to make my point plain and clear.
“And I’m the Demon King!” She sassed with a cocky wink. “I got a pretty good idea on what kind of vibe a Paladin gives, and you? You just don’t fit that bill, y’know?”
I slouched under her gaze, feeling the weight of her words settle like a lead cloak. Maybe she wasn’t wrong—not entirely, anyway. Looking at the state I was in, “Paladin” felt like a generous label.
“Maybe I’m not anymore,” I admitted gloomily. “I was a Paladin. I know that much. But fine, maybe I’m not up to scruff anymore in this crap world!” I hesitated, swallowing the bitterness of the truth. “Maybe I’m just the ghoul with broken dreams.”
Ichni let out a dramatic groan, cutting off any chance of wallowing. “Ugh, dada ayu…” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t start getting all mopey on me now. You’re just... weird, okay? There’s a lot of weird stuff happening right now.”
“You’re telling me,” I agreed as I leaned back, leaning back into the bench. At least that’s something we can’t argue. This whole damn thing is weird.
If this was my old-old world, I would have taken a long hit on a cigarette.
“I really am some kind of half-dead revenant on a holy fetch quest on a completely different playing field now.” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.
“And I’m a fully dead ghost stuck living in a glorified glove!” Ichni chimed in, her tone weirdly triumphant, like we were comparing war medals.
I sighed heavily. “Fine, you win. I’m only half dead, and I live in... what was it again? A rusty trash can?”
“Exactly! Just a couple of undead weirdos. Some proper odderoos,” she declared, as if we’d just named our club.
“Don’t call me that,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I could practically feel the embarrassment of having to wear some sort of dumb sports shirt called “The Undead Odderoos”.
“I still have a sliver of dignity left. Somewhere.”
“Oh, that’s cute. You think dignity’s a thing you can keep,” she teased with a wicked grin.
“Oh, by the way,” she continued, straightening her posture dramatically, “I am Ichni, first princess to the crown! The Black Lady, Witch of Webs—you name it, they’ve called me it.” She ticked off each title with deliberate emphasis, practically daring me to bow. “I may not be much of an adventurer, but with my royal legacy and boundless expertise, I should make for a most capable leader of this group... assuming you prove yourself useful.”
The pride radiating off her was almost blinding. It was clear she treasured these titles, likely bestowed by terrified villagers or bitter castle maids. For once, I decided not to mock her. No point poking the spider.
However, it feels like there was some miscommunication.
“Uh, Ichni? Hate to break it to you, but I’m the one in charge here,” I said, keeping my tone calm—diplomatic, even. “The Four-Lights entrusted me with your care because they thought you’d make a great, uh…” My words faltered for a moment. ‘Asset’ felt too impersonal, and ‘sidekick’ felt like asking for trouble. “Partner. Yeah, a partner for the team. I’ve got a plan, and I’d appreciate that you work with me as a partner.”
“It’s actually Princess Ichni. ‘Your highness’ would also work!” She corrected me. She completely zoned out the rest of everything I said, as though ignoring me completely derailed the power struggle in her favor. Watching her attempt some kind of regal pose to punctuate the point, I felt my heels dig into the dirt as though I was ready to sprint back into the deeper part of the woods.
“I’m not calling a demon ghost girl ‘Your Highness,’” I said flatly, crossing my arms for emphasis. This earned me another glare, which seems to be a trademark of hers. “Look, it’s taking a lot of effort to undo years of prejudice just to call you Ichni. Let’s not push it.”
“Hmph!” She sniffed, tilting her head back in exaggerated indignation as though to look down on me. “Very well. I shall allow it, since you’re doing me the favor of carrying me on this noble journey.” Her lips curled into a smug smile. “But be grateful, trash-can knight. Few others would dare address me with such... familiarity.”
I gave up as I stood, sighing with all the remaining air left in my slump body.
“Sounds good,” I said with a bitter taste in my mouth, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m heading into the meadows. You know, with all those hoplops you’re so scared of.”
“Eeep! Wait! Wait-wait-wait-wait!” Ichni squealed, her composure evaporating in an instant. In a blur of panic, she zipped back into the gauntlet with the urgency of a chicken fleeing a fox.
I raised an eyebrow at the glove, giving it a light tap to confirm she’d settled in. Satisfied, I turned my attention to the nearby trees. After a quick search, I found a sturdy branch about as thick as my arm. It wasn’t elegant, but after a few experimental swings, I grimaced as I felt my mind trail off to my master, who had always reminded me to only carry a sword I was familiar with.
It wasn’t exactly Chandrabolg, but it would have to do. I’d handled my fair share of short swords in my younger days, and while this glorified stick wouldn’t be winning me any duels, one good swing might be enough to knock out something tougher. Probably. Sorry, master. I’ll try to make you proud with what I got.
As I scanned the area for supplies, a cluster of red-spotted mushrooms growing by a tree trunk caught my eye. I crouched down, plucked a few, and held them up to the gauntlet like a chef presenting the day’s special.
“Hey, princess,” I called out. “These mushrooms safe to eat?”
“How should I know?” her voice echoed faintly from the glove, sounding more confused than annoyed.
“You... don’t know if these are edible?” I asked, uncertain I heard her right..
“Of course not!” she snapped, as though I’d insulted her royal lineage. “I had all my meals prepared for me. What do you take me for, some kind of forest farmer?”
A… forest farmer? I thought. How sheltered is this chick? Well, to be fair, I didn’t know if they were safe to eat either, so it’d be a bit hypocritical to scold her for her ignorance. Maybe I’ll chop them up later to put over a pizza monster or something.
I dropped the mushrooms onto the bench for safekeeping—just in case—and turned toward the meadow. My stomach grumbled at the thought of a proper meal. The raw fish I’d eaten earlier had been... tolerable, but the idea of freshly cooked meat made my mouth water. With my makeshift club in hand and my hunger driving me forward, I set off, hoping I’d find something edible that didn’t eat me first.
The sun warmed my face as I ventured into the meadow, a growing sense of optimism in my step. For a brief, blissful moment, I even started to skip, enjoying the fluttering of butterflies around me. Then reality hit—I was being watched by someone who would absolutely mock me to the ends of the earth for it. Clearing my throat, I adjusted my pace to a dignified march and focused on the horizon. Somewhere out there was a town. And, hopefully, dinner.
Roughly ten minutes into my trek, the first of the infamous monsters Ichni had warned me about appeared. It hopped onto the path about five meters ahead, its beady red eyes locked on me with unsettling intensity.
“Why hello, appetizer!” I welcomed it with greedy eyes. I could practically taste the meal it would provide after roasting it over an open fire.
At first glance, it looked like a jackalope—an adorable, mythical rabbit with antlers. But the aura it gave off was anything but adorable. Its white fur bristled like static, and its sharp, pearly teeth gnashed together with a sound that sent a painfully clear message. Naturally, I had wandered into its territory. And it was not happy about it.
Before I could process how one rabbit could look so menacing, two more hopped out of the tall grass to flank their leader. Fantastic. A trio.
“Well, congratulations, you three!” I snickered, wiping the drool off my face. “It looks like you just received a free upgrade to ‘full course meal’ status!”
My grip tightened on the club as I sized up the situation. Three of them, one of me, and no backup except a ghostly princess who was currently hiding in a glove. Perfect.
I hunched into a battle stance, my weapon at the ready, anticipating their first strike. “Alright, fuzzy demons,” I muttered under my breath, “let’s see what you’ve got.”
The hoplops began their assault, leaping toward me one by one with what I could only describe as... leisurely aggression. Slow, almost comically so. It took them several seconds just to close the gap, like they needed to do a leapfrog dance routine before they could initiate their deadly assault.
I hesitated, watching their bizarrely choreographed approach, before deciding I wasn’t about to wait for them to get their act together. With a yell, I charged straight at the largest of the three—their fearless leader.
“Taaaaaake this!” I roared, channeling all my pent-up frustration into the swing. The club arced upward in what I was certain would be the greatest uppercut this rabbit—or any rabbit—had ever seen. My form was perfect, my timing impeccable, and—
CRACK!
The club caught a rock mid-swing. My golf technique sent the pebble flying into the brush, but not before Newton’s third law decided to betray me with the sudden forceful stop. Pain exploded up my arm as my wrist twisted sideways, and before I could recover, the momentum carried me straight into the hoplop. Hitting the ground in a graceless heap, I howled in agony, clutching my throbbing wrist.
“AIYEEEE~!”
Apparently, gravity had decided to take my side, because my full weight landed squarely on the lead hoplop. There was a muffled crunch, and just like that, my weight alone had crushed the rabbit, killing it near instantly.
The remaining two scattered to the side, wisely avoiding my flailing limbs as I writhed on the ground, clutching my injured hand.
“OW! Ow, ow, ow! You stupid fucking vermin, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!!!” I shouted through gritted teeth, tears stinging my eyes.
“Get ’em, Adrian! You’ve got this!” Ichni’s voice rang out cheerfully from the glove, completely ignoring the fact that I was writhing in pain and humiliation.
“Thanks for the support,” I growled through clenched teeth. “Really helpful.”
What followed could only be described as a wild bar brawl of flailing limbs, desperation, and questionable tactics. One hoplop lunged at me, and I instinctively soccer-kicked it with everything I had. This snapped my ankle, sending a second howl out of me as I shattered its antlers. It soared into the air with a surprised squeal, vanishing momentarily into the grass.
The other took advantage of the distraction, launching itself onto my back and gnawing furiously at the rusted armor. With a guttural growl, I threw myself backward, slamming into the ground and crushing the would-be attacker beneath me with the force of a dumpster.
The impact knocked the wind out of me, leaving me gasping as I struggled to keep the adrenaline-fueled rage burning. As I pulled myself up, I felt the antlers plop out of my back and wet trickles of blood coming down. Guess it was less a ‘body slam’ and more of a ‘double edge’!
The last hoplop returned, now with stubs for horns and its red eyes burning with vengeance for its fallen comrades. I didn’t wait for it to make the first move. With a roar that was equal parts rage and exhaustion, I lunged at the creature like a wild animal, tackling it to the ground.
Gripping the gauntlet tightly, I began hammering away at the squirming rabbit, each strike accompanied by a muffled “Ouch!” from Ichni inside the glove.
“Could you maybe not use me as a blunt weapon?” she complained, her voice laced with irritation.
“Could you maybe not criticize me in the middle of this?!” I shot back, delivering one final blow that left the hoplop limp beneath me.
Covered head to toe in sticky black blood, I raised the limp body of the last hoplop in triumph and howled at the sky like a feral beast. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but in the heat of battle, it felt oddly satisfying.
As the adrenaline began to fade, the pain came rushing back in waves. My wrist throbbed like it had a personal vendetta, my foot ached from the soccer kick, and my back felt like I’d gone a few rounds with a spiked boulder. Still, I had won. Somehow. And in the process, I’d secured my first proper meal in this strange, unforgiving world.
We won’t count the raw fish.
“I... I did it! I actually won!” I gasped, gathering the fallen hoplops with shaky hands. My voice cracked halfway through, but I didn’t care—I’d earned this moment. I could practically hear the victory fanfare as I leveled up from useless undead to pro-wrestler.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
From the safety of her gauntlet retreat, Ichni’s voice chimed in with perfect timing. “I mean, technically, gravity and dumb luck did most of the heavy lifting, but sure, let’s call it a win!”
“Could you just let me have this?” I groaned, glaring at the gauntlet.
“Fine, fine. Congrats on your incredible victory, oh great trash-can knight,” she teased.
Just as I reached for the third rabbit to complete my collection, I suddenly felt a dangerous presence behind me. My instincts kicking in, I turned around as my eyes landed on something I hadn’t expected—and definitely didn’t want to see.
Sitting calmly atop the corpse of one of the hoplops was a slime. Its ocean-blue form rippled as it jiggled in place, emitting a faint, wet slurping sound. By the time I realized what it was doing, one-third of my hard-won dinner had already disappeared into its gelatinous body.
“Hey, you... that’s mine!” I snapped, pointing accusingly at the slime. It gurgled in response, completely unfazed by my outrage.
Slimes were weak monsters—barely a threat—but they were infuriating nuisances back in my old world. I wasn’t about to let this jiggling blob waltz in and steal my dinner.
Shoving the remaining two hoplops under my injured arm, I grabbed the club with my good hand and charged. “Get ready for a beating, you gelatinous thief! Those were my rabbit nuggets!”
I swore I heard a faint toot come from it, like a mocking gesture that it had already enjoyed my meal.
“And now you join the potluck!” I roared, raising my club with all the righteous fury of a man denied his first-class meal. The swing connected with a satisfying smack!—a sound somewhere between a wet towel hitting the floor and a sumo wrestler’s slap.
I expected the slime to splatter gloriously, or at least get launched into the distance. Instead, the club bounced harmlessly off its wobbly surface, leaving me staring in disbelief.
The slime blinked its bulbous eyes at me, equally stunned by my attack. But the shock quickly gave way to something more menacing. Its innocent stare hardened into an unmistakable glare, and for a moment, I swore the jiggling mass was offended.
Frustrated, I raised my foot to deliver a decisive stomp—only for it to skid across the slime’s slippery surface. Realizing I led with my good foot, my balance vanished, and I hit the ground with all the grace of a collapsing sack of potatoes.
Before I could even groan in frustration, the slime had shot into the air like a spring, performing a ridiculous front flip as if to mock me once more with some style points. Then, with a wet splat, it came crashing down on my chest, driving the air from my lungs in one humiliating blow.
“HUUUUUUURGH!” I groaned out in response.
The slime launched itself into the air again, clearly intent on finishing the job. This time, though, I was ready. Scrambling to my feet, I took a step back, gripping the club like a seasoned batter at the plate.
“It’s a grand slam, baby!” I bellowed, swinging with everything I had. The club connected, and for a split second, I felt victorious—until the wood exploded into splinters, leaving the slime entirely unharmed.
I couldn’t believe it. Was this slime immune to wood or something?
“It’s a slime, Adrian!” Ichni called helpfully from the glove, her tone laced with innocent patience.
“No shit, what gave it away?!” I snapped, waving the broken remains of my club at her.
“Tch, murakka! Slimes are immune to bludgeoning attacks!” Ichni snapped, her tone dripping with exasperation.
I swore. Shit! She was right. How could I have forgotten something so basic? Back in my old world, I’d always taken them down with a magical sword—never a blunt weapon. Now here I was, flailing uselessly with a glorified stick against the one enemy that could shrug it off entirely.
Sweat beaded on my forehead as the horrifying truth set in. I was in a losing battle. With a slime.
As I stared at the slime in growing bewilderment, something about its shape began to shift. Two floppy ears sprouted from its gelatinous body, followed by a pair of jagged antlers—clear remnants of the hoplop it had devoured.
The ears looked harmless enough, drooping lazily to the sides. But the antlers? They gleamed with a sharpness that made my stomach churn.
“Oh, that’s just unfair,” I muttered under my breath, gripping the broken remains of my club a little tighter. Realizing it was just as useful as my injured wrist, I dropped it. I’m sorry for disappointing you, master!
“This calls for one of my advanced techniques,” I declared, trying to sound confident despite the rising panic in my chest. It had been a while since I’d resorted to such tactics, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
It didn’t matter how ridiculous it looked. Against a monster—any monster—I’d do whatever it took to survive.
The slime began hopping toward me, its movements far more aggressive than the hoplops’ sluggish antics. I dropped into a low stance, readying myself for the perfect moment to strike.
It hopped closer. And closer. I waited, my grip clenching dirt into my hand. Just as it landed a couple of meters away, I made my move.
“Pocket sand!” I shouted, flinging a handful of loose dirt directly into the slime’s... well, face, I guess?
The attack did absolutely nothing, but I didn’t stick around to admire my handiwork. With a yelp, I spun on my heel and sprinted back toward the forest, my battered body protesting every step.
* * *
The rabbit-slime stopped at the edge of the forest, staring me down with an unsettling intensity. I braced myself, ready to run again if it so much as twitched in my direction. But to my surprise—and immense relief—it didn’t cross into the Forest of Passing.
Maybe the cursed air acted like a natural barrier, or maybe it just wasn’t stupid enough to venture where I had. Either way, it hesitated for a moment longer before turning away and hopping back into the meadow, its antlered silhouette vanishing into the tall grass.
I let out a shaky breath, leaning against a tree. Safe... for now.
“Whew. I’m freaking beat,” I muttered, before collapsing onto the bench like a sack of bricks. It groaned with the abuse, but otherwise it ignored my crude return. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, every muscle in my body screaming in protest.
This body wasn’t built for running—especially not from a slime. More than once, I’d had to slow down to fend off the thing as it relentlessly chased me. I even threw one of the hoplops at it in a desperate bid to buy time, but revenge apparently mattered more to it than snacks.
A fresh wave of annoyance flared in me as I realized it was probably heading back to eat the hoplop now. Great. I wasted part of my dinner and have downgraded back to appetizer status.
I was in a bad state from both those fights. I didn’t expect my first encounter to take so much effort, and despite Ichni’s warning I went full throttle to my own defeat. Even my dinner, the smallest of the three demon rabbits, looked meager in comparison to what I gave up for it. I sighed in resignation.
“Told you they were dangerous killers,” Ichni’s smug voice chimed as she materialized next to me, perched delicately on the bench.
I unceremoniously dropped the remaining rabbit to the ground. It wasn’t at risk of being eaten by the slime, so I just wanted to ignore my snack for now. Plus, I didn’t know how to start a fire, and forest-ranger Ichni was about as likely as the slime to know how to use a flint and tinder.
I glared at her, too exhausted to muster a proper retort. “I feel like I hurt myself more than they did,” I muttered ruefully.
“True. So much for being a Paladin, huh?” Ichni teased, her lips curling into a pitying smile. “What’s next? Summoning a horde of skeletons to flay your enemies alive? Or maybe pointing at them dramatically and commanding them to drop dead?”
I sighed, too drained to rise to the bait. “That’s not even remotely what paladins do,” I muttered, brushing off her jabs with as much dignity as I could muster—which, admittedly, wasn’t much.
“Right... well, you certainly could pass for a rabid ghoul after that first swing. Ehehe.” Ichni’s quiet chuckle quickly spiraled out of control. She tried to stifle it with her hand, but it was a lost cause. “Ahaha! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“What’s so damn funny?” I snapped, glaring at her. “Think you could do better, ghost girl?”
She didn’t even acknowledge me, doubling over in laughter as her body twitched with delight. Apparently, my humiliation was her new favorite form of entertainment.
“The way you tripped and squashed the first one by falling on it—oh, mein teufel, I thought I was going to die!” Ichni wheezed, tears streaming down her face. “And then, oh devils, when you tried to stomp the slime and went ass over head into the dirt? Priceless!”
She clutched her sides, her laughter echoing through the quiet meadow as her tail flailed like a wind-up toy. Each time she seemed to calm down, another fit of giggles took over, leaving me standing there, equal parts embarrassed and annoyed.
She was clutching her sides in mirth, gasping for breath as she giggled the seconds away. “Ahahahaha! Ahahaha…. Hahaha… hahhhhhh.”
“Glad my life-and-death struggle with those terrifying killers you warned me about was so damn amusing,” I fumed resentfully, crossing my arms as I impatiently waited for her to stop with the theatrics.
“Oh, honta, it really was,” Ichni replied, her laughter tapering off into smaller giggles. “You’re a funny one, you know that? I think I quite like you.”
Her smirk widened as she leaned in conspiratorially. “Just imagine if you tried to fight my father. What’s the plan there? Sneak in from the roof for a surprise attack by landing on him? Ehehe!”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I had just won my first encounter since I came back to life, and she wants to bring up the final boss? “Can we not talk about that right now?”
I briefly considered grabbing her by the throat and shoving her back into the glove, but the sheer weight of my exhaustion—and her relentless teasing—left me slumped in defeat.
Hunched over, I let out a long, defeated sigh as her bullying finally subsided. The worst part? I couldn’t even muster the energy to argue. She’d won this round. Completely.
“Alright, alright,” Ichni said, her voice softening unexpectedly. It carried a gentleness that caught me off guard—like a mother reassuring a child after a tantrum. “Don’t worry, floppy one. My hands are instruments of divine grace, wielding a gift that only I, in all my brilliance, possess in this cold, unyielding world.”
Her sudden shift to poetic grandeur was almost enough to make me forget how infuriating she’d been just moments ago. Almost.
I turned to her in amazement. A gifted power? Something only the spider princess could wield?
I was in a wretched state, barely fit for a mid afternoon nap. I didn’t feel like I was going to get far like this, with a rolled ankle and a spicy wrist. It was clear that my body was still that of a reanimated corpse still trying to shake off rigor mortis, damn it!
Yet, despite this, in my feeble position, it appeared that I still had one last trump card- the mysterious hidden art that the soon to be queen of this world possessed. I was floored that I managed to secure some kind of loose alliance with this foul mouthed girl.
What could it be? Was it eldritch power, granting me the power to blast my foes into dust? Or maybe the gift of flight, where I could soar the skies? I’d take one of those fancy demon eyes you’d see in anime that I could use to perceive some abstract concept. Could she unlock a power inside me I never knew I had, but was always there?
“Behold, my loyal servant, and witness my love and affection made manifest in unholy form!” she proclaimed with theatrical flair, her voice only slightly muffled by what happened next.
To my absolute horror, she leaned forward and spat a glob of sticky webbing into her hand with the enthusiasm of someone presenting a masterpiece. The wet splat as it landed was enough to make my stomach churn.
What in the fuck did I just sign up for?
It emerged like a massive wad of under chewed gum, glistening and sticky, and the smack it made as it hit her palm was disturbingly similar to the sound of the slime I’d fought earlier. The wet, resonating noise had made me flinch instinctively.
Before I could fully register the horrifying mess she was holding, Ichni slapped the goo onto my broken wrist with zero warning. A sharp jolt of pain shot up my arm, making me yelp, but she paid no mind.
With swift, practiced movements, she began pulling strands from the glob, wrapping them meticulously around my forearm. Her hands worked with precision, and even her spider legs joined in, weaving the sticky material like it was second nature.
“GAH!” I protested, recoiling as much as my battered body would allow. “What in the hell are you doing?!”
Ichni didn’t even flinch at my outburst. “What does it look like?” she replied, her tone dripping with exasperation as though I were the unreasonable one. “I’m tending to your wounds. Can’t just let them fester, you know. You were creaking like an old willow after a windstorm, broken branches and all!”
She punctuated her statement by running a strand of webbing across her teeth with a sharp snap, making me shudder.
“Well, maybe a little warning before you barf web on me?!” I demanded angrily.
“BARF? EXCUSE ME?” she shouted, livid at the word. I recoiled myself, half wondering if I just insulted her entire family line. “I am a princess! My webs are a treasure to the people of this realm! Be thankful, you ungracious murakka!”
I flinched, unable to figure out if I had actually done wrong being upset at this bizarre activity. She’s half preparing me as a spider meal to be sucked dry, was I actually in the wrong?
“Okay, but what is this even supposed to—” My words caught in my throat as the webbing began to shift. The fine strands tightened, burrowing lightly into my exposed skin like living stitches.
I braced for pain but was instead met with an almost overwhelming wave of relief. My wrist clicked back into place with a satisfying pop, the ache fading away as though it had never been there.
“Ohhh... by the Four-Lights, that feels incredible,” I murmured, my voice heavy with bliss. Whatever magic was in her webbing, it was like the spider equivalent of a painkiller—and it worked wonders.
I loosened my posture, slacked my shoulders and accepted whatever else she needed to do. She nodded proudly as she went to town on me- not in that way, for the perverted- and began spitting and smacking her webs all around my body. Again, it sounds weird when I say it like that, I understand what it sounds like, this is a perfectly natural way for a Spider Princess to patch up her wounded knight. Sure.
At the very least, the one person that would have made fun of me for it was the same person that was patching me up, literally and figuratively. If life called for me to get satisfaction from being spat on by a spider-princess, then so be it. I really was halfway to being in a cocoon before she dusted her hands in satisfaction.
“See?” Ichni said, her voice brimming with pride as she surveyed her handiwork. “My webs regenerate cuts, bruises, broken bones—you name it. They’re versatile, effective, and, like I said, my own special gift. Just leave it on for a bit, and it’ll dissolve once it’s done its job.”
I turned to look at the princess who just delivered the doctor’s order, completely immobile as the webs clung me to the bench with only small parts of my appendages jutting out. I felt like a newborn bird taking a break from hatching out of its shell- and I was quite content with where I was.
Taking this as medical obedience, she dusted off her hands, grinning like she’d just performed a miracle. In a way, I guessed she had.
“If I ever die again,” I murmured, half-lost in the soothing sensation, “I want it to feel exactly like this.”
Ichni raised an eyebrow, her grin sharpening. “Well, lucky for you, I’m doing this so you don’t die. So that’ll have to wait, won’t it?” she quipped, her tone as confident as ever.
“Am I ‘Your Highness’ now?” Ichni asked, her voice dripping with smug confidence. She didn’t just expect the title—she knew she’d earned it.
I let out a long, blissful sigh, the lingering relief from her webbing making it hard to argue. “You keep pulling off tricks like this, and I’ll call you whatever the hell you want,” I admitted, leaning back against the bench. “Ahh…”
“It’s not a party trick, you fool—it’s a real power!” Ichni huffed, her irritation flaring for just a moment before she hesitated.
“Although... I might have used it a few times for tricks at parties,” she admitted with a shrug. “But that’s beside the point!”
A few minutes passed in sheer, unbroken bliss before I noticed the webbing beginning to dissolve, just as Ichni had promised. The strands faded into the air like smoke, leaving my skin unmarked and my body feeling... well, less like a ragged cadaver and more like an old man. Still, it was loads better!
I flexed my wrist experimentally, then rolled my shoulders. No immediate aches, no sharp pain. “I feel alive!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms into the air like I’d just won a marathon. Doing a quick stretch, I felt one last pop in my back that felt like heaven, and I gave two thumbs up.
“You still don’t look like it, you half-assed ghoul!” Ichni congratulated, equally joyfully.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I shot back, though I couldn’t keep the awe out of my voice. “Seriously, though—webs like that? Amazing! Can all spiders do that? I thought they were just for catching bugs!”
Ichni leaned forward, fixing me with a baleful stare. “Ever the eloquent speaker, aren’t you? No, genius, not all spiders can do this. Only my webs have healing properties—if I spin them just right. So, there. Not useless.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Even if I wanted to think that—which I don’t—I’d never let such a treacherous lie leave my lips.”
“Good! Because I’m exhausted,” Ichni announced, stretching her arms and spider legs with just as much effort as I had. “That little display took more out of me than I care to admit. I’m taking a nap. Good night!”
With that, she flopped backward onto the bench, her posture as casual as if we were lounging in a royal palace instead of the middle of nowhere. After a moment she shot up, realized that she was sinking partway into the wood, and retreated back into the gemmed gauntlet.
“Oh, uh, g’night,” I muttered awkwardly, glancing up at the midday sky.
I hesitated, unsure if moving around would disturb her—or if she even could sleep, given her ghostly nature. For all her infuriating quirks and smug behavior, Ichni hadn’t done anything outright malicious. Yet. That fact, more than anything, was what kept my simmering irritation from boiling over.
In her defense, if I’d been mauled to death and my spirit chained to some random schmuck with questionable survival skills, I’d probably be dragging my feet and demanding my revival nonstop. Maybe even more obnoxiously.
For all her sarcasm and attitude, Ichni had cheered for me during my slapstick battle with the hoplops and that stupid slime. And when I earned the dubious honor of gaining a mortal nemesis in one of the weakest monsters in existence, she still went out of her way to patch me up.
It was hard to lump Ichni in with the ogers that tore my friends apart or the commander who blew my head off. Sure, there was a chance she saw me as some kind of demon or monster thanks to my current undead state. But the fact that she hadn’t been deterred by my plan to take on her father—the supposed Demon King—was... intriguing.
She was more like a precocious teenager that just had their first week in college, rattled with the sudden shift in lifestyle while trying to keep on airs that she had it all together. New dank dorm room, a stinky bunkmate, the whole nine yards.
What was going on in her head, I wondered? She couldn’t be fully on board with my plans, could she? Maybe she was just content to tag along for now, or maybe she wasn’t as sharp as she wanted me to believe. Or worse—she was biding her time, waiting for someone more loyal to her cause to come along.
It wasn’t hard to imagine she had enemies everywhere, especially with the Demon King as her father. But if even one defector was out there willing to help her, I might be in for more trouble than I’d bargained for.
Back in my old world, there’d been no shortage of scheming nobles and would-be usurpers. Prince Ramel came to mind—the guy practically had an army of sycophants ready to help him force the king off the throne.
If the Four-Lights were trying to restore balance here, surely I wasn’t the only pawn they’d try to rally. A jaded princess like Ichni, demon or not, seemed like the kind of wildcard they’d want in their corner. If they found someone else to ‘take over’ the role of hero, was I expected to just hand her over? That thought wasn’t exactly comforting.
I shudder at the thought of betrayal on every front. I had no allies in this world—no one I could personally trust. Ichni was here, sure, but was against her will, her soul effectively chained to me like dirty laundry duty. My enemies? They wouldn’t even see me as a threat. Just a minor nuisance.
It was a lonely place to be, and the idea of being double-crossed by the one person stuck with me wasn’t just unsettling—it was terrifying.
But maybe being overlooked wasn’t all bad. If no one took me seriously, I could use that to my advantage. Stay under the radar, strike when the time was right, and rise from the shadows as the unexpected hero. Technically speaking, I had no enemies, save the single slime.
It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was better than wallowing in self-pity.
But first things first. My gaze drifted nervously back to the field, where the faint, jiggling silhouette of the slime loomed like a mocking reminder of my earlier defeat.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. In this new life, I was destined to face all kinds of trials. Great foes, impossible odds, world-shaking decisions. But right now?
I had to figure out how to deal with the damned slimy asshole that stole my dinner.
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—Ichni—
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I couldn’t believe it. I’d been warned to never use my gift on anyone unless I completely trusted them, yet here I was. What choice did I have?
The vulnerability of exposing my secret gnawed at me. What if this ruined me? Could I even marry after this?
And then he had the audacity to call it barf. As if I’d spit vomit on him like some mindless fly feasting on a corpse.
I’d spent years perfecting the art of threading my webs, honing my technique to a craft few could dream of mastering. And yet, for the first time, someone regarded it with outright disgust.
Was it truly that revolting? Should I be ashamed of what my body can do?
I lay curled up in my spirit form, confined to this little pocket dimension. The space was cramped and suffocating, a vast expanse of darkness stretching endlessly in every direction.
The only feature of this void was the oval mirror across from me. Its frame of cracked wrought iron looked weathered and rusted, but the glass itself was pristine—sharp, clear, and far too large for the frame that held it.
I glanced at the mirror with disinterest. There was rarely anything worth seeing—it only reflected the view from that buffoon’s hand. Occasionally, he’d move his wrist, and I’d catch fleeting glimpses of his face: pallid white skin, a grayed mop of purplish hair, and those piercing yellow eyes.
He wasn’t human—not any kind I’d ever heard of. His skin was cracked and teetered on the edge of rot, giving him the look of a revenant or, perhaps, a strangely handsome ghoul. If such an oxymoron exists.
And, of course, he occasionally scratched his ass or adjusted his junk, blissfully unaware—or unconcerned—that I had to witness every mortifying second of it.
I rolled over with a sigh, the weight of my circumstances settling heavily on me. This was my life now. One moment, I was striding through the ebony halls of my royal castle, every step a reminder of my station. The next, I was fleeing for days, hunted like prey by one of the stewards I despised most.
Damn you, Onshi. Dullahan had warned me this day might come, but I never thought you’d actually have the nerve—or the opportunity—to act on it.
But the thought that my father might have given you the order himself? That was something else entirely. If it were true... it would break me.
If my father had truly commanded it, it would mean half the world was prepared to hunt me down. The Demon King had everyone wrapped tightly around his finger, their loyalty unquestioning. Even some of my so-called friends would likely soil themselves at the mere thought of defying him.
But Adrian… what a name. Too noble, too proper—it doesn’t suit him at all.
He said he was a Paladin, but it was clear it was all an act. Dullahan used to tell me bedtime stories of these “Heroic” monsters, hunters that preyed on demons like us and tortured them so gruesomely that it would destroy their very being.
Dooly said he was even one, since he had no issues taking care of both humans and demons that fell out of line with my dad. The way he can channel such an menacing mana, completely void of that of even the Elements… and then there was Adrian, whose abilities were more that of howling like a screeching cat in heat.
And yet, that fool truly believes he can challenge my father. He even thinks he can overturn all the harm he’s done. It’s laughable. No one can defeat the Demon King. Everyone knows why.
He’s cursed with invincibility.
That curse has been his reality since before I was born. Many have tried to challenge him over the years, sparring with him in hopes of uncovering some mortal flaw. But not only is he immortal—he’s also one of the strongest beings I’ve ever known.
Even Onshi wouldn’t dare cross him, not after realizing that the chains binding my father couldn’t be broken, no matter how hard his grubby, fur-covered paws pulled.
And yet, Adrian sets out to do just that. Of all the people I’ve met in this world, he’s the first who truly believes—not just that he can defeat my father, but that he’s meant to.
He might look like death warmed over, and he’s certainly a bit of a moron, but there’s courage in those yellow eyes of his. That spark of determination... I want to see it. I want to watch it grow into a raging fire.
I want to see this world consumed by that fire, and I can’t wait to see what rises from the ashes—a world where fear and sorrow no longer rule my kingdom.
My father’s so-called invincibility is the very thing that chains him to his own prison within the castle. If those chains are ever shattered... there’s no telling what might happen next.
I chuckled softly to myself and closed my eyes. For the first time, trapped here in this pocket dimension and in this miserable state, I think I finally understood how my father must have felt—alone, angry, and bound by forces we couldn’t control.
Maybe, when I see him again, both of us will finally be free. Maybe then, we’ll stand eye to eye, unburdened by lies or constraints.
No more lies. No more tricks. No more unanswered questions.
It will just be him, me, and—if he’s lucky—this ridiculous, rusted bucket of a knight.
And then, finally, I’ll ask him the truth myself.