By pure chance, my hand caught around the carved up neck of the pointy-eared bastard. With the help of Rigor Mortis, my locked arm kept the monster at bay, but it was a sordid display. Black blood and decaying flesh squished between my fingers, feeling like a cold, slimy mixture of raw hamburger meat and chicken bones. That was beyond awful by itself. However, since the shrimp had knocked me onto my back, the disgusting debris rained down my arm. Ruining my expensive dress jacket!

Almost as bad, I dropped my Bam Bam stone. Weaponless, with a snarling, stinking fairy trying to eat my face took a lot of the fun out of the mana dump halfsie had given me. And no doubt about it, that mana surge had been prodigious. It had been nearly enough to advance me straight to the next tier. I wasn’t sure how I knew that, save for continuing experience with mana granting me a better understanding.

The upside to my predicament was that the elf only wanted to attack my face. Presumably because of my handsome looks.

Has to be it. No other explanation possible.

Say what you want about Oran Farrow, no one can deny he’d been a fetching man. His thick black hair pissed off his balding uncle to no end. The man had eventually gotten a magical hair transplant, but that never stopped him from giving Oran dirty looks. Though currently dripping with gore as it was, that particular envy would likely suffer a temporary setback.

Further, I’d inherited a strong, classic jawline and piercing hazel eyes that had made him the target of many unfulfilled widows and cougars. Oran had been far too socially awkward to capitalize on their featherheaded flirtations. A fact for which I was inconsiderably grateful. Having no experience with the opposite sex myself, beyond the occasional pre-hospitalized instructional video, meant that hobby would remain a mystery. Considering that I was a walking corpse, I marked that as a satisfactory outcome.

Between the zombie’s fixation with unsolicited facial reconstruction and its stubby arms, the bothersome corpse had locked us into a fatuous stalemate. It frantically waved its clawing fingers in the air, ignoring my impeding arm locked around its neck. After the initial shock of getting floored by a monster wore off, I started thinking up ways to turn the tear up into a tier up.

At first, I tried, and failed to roll it over to the side. Unfortunately, the elf was much stronger than me. I already suspected that to be true based on the amount of mana these things had in them, but having it snapping its physical superiority right in my face was a little disheartening. It also explained why killing them took so much effort.

My next tactic was to just keep whacking it with my fist. It didn’t work.

The follow up ear examination was equally fruitless, but I will concede that I took no small amount of joy from ripping the pointed tip off its right ear and shoving it back into its ear hole. I admit, it was petty, but the act gave me a mental respite.

Also, how many can say they’ve done that?

Eventually, I devised what I considered a classic juvenile response. Being that my one and only fight had been in elementary school, I was rather proud of the idea.

I tried to pull its shirt over its head.

In doing so, I discovered the rabid moron had a veritable arsenal of daggers tucked under its fur clothing. That brightened my spirits considerably, and I knew that I now had the upper hand.

The eyes would have been the ideal area to target for reaching the brain, but I chose to go through the side of the skull. I feared the chaotic air scratching would rip the dagger away from my hand or mess up my other sleeve if I attacked it straight on.

After stealing a blade from a tight sheath, I held out my free arm and swung it through the creature's ear with all my strength. It was a one hit kill!

That sweet, sweet flow of mana rewarded me for all my frustrations. Nevertheless, I ignored it for a minute, taking important self-care minutes to clean off the gore. An acceptable level of grooming completed, I turned to the codex.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

You have sufficient mana to advance a tier II → III

Please choose a trait for your tier.

* Decoagulating nails - your nails inflict wounds that bleed profusely.

* Poisonous Gas - your stomach builds up a toxic gas that you can expel once a day.

* Disease Spreader - your bite has a chance of infecting a living creature with zombification.

Okay, that was disappointing. None of the options were attractive, but I strove to give each choice their due consideration. Except Disease Spreader. Biting is only acceptable as an absolute last resort. No discussion!

All three choices targeted the living in the most raunchy way. Although I had no intention of hurting normal people, ‌they would not feel likewise so inclined. Cities had standing orders to kill the undead on sight. In an inevitable encounter with the living, I’d be foolish not to use what gifts the Naram-Sin had provided.

For all that, most monsters would fall under the living category. I was content to wander around the catacombs for the time being, but I had no illusions that I would not leave to explore at some point. Nevermind that monsters might come to me in their own version of exploration. Either condition warranted a fight—we were after all natural enemies.

I weighed the pros first. The claws were reusable in a pitched battle. Also, with a well-placed strike, I could hit an artery and end a fight quickly. Conversely, the gas could take out multiple enemies at once. It would also clear an area from which I might escape or buy myself time.

In specific situations, I could see both being useful.

Looking at the cons, the two choices countered each other. Nails would require me to get up close and use non-existing fighting ability. While gas was a one shot, “hope this does the trick” style of attack.

After thinking it over a few more moments, I went with the Poisonous Gas. Indecent as it was, the attack was idiot proof. My nails were, well, regular human nails. In a horde of mindless corpses dragging people to the ground and clawing them up, it would probably be exceptional. Trying to scratch a giant unicorn spider or dire dingo with well-manicured fingernails was silly.

After confirming my choice, my stomach swelled up, bloating and gurgling like I’d gone on a 3:00 a.m. taco hell bender. The sensation grew so intense I wondered if I was going to have to take a crap. Could zombies even do that? A harrowing minute later, things settled back to a calm state, and I sighed in exasperated relief. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, my belly just felt full. Like I’d eaten a good meal.

I held off on trying the new ability out, because I was more eager to rifle through the rest of the elf’s equipment.

Can’t believe I didn’t think to loot earlier! It’s not like she would have stopped me.

The dagger I’d stuck in her head was definitely magical. Oran had enough experience with such things to tell me that much. Golden runes decorated one side of the blade, distorting the surrounding air. I couldn’t tell for sure what the enchantment did, but I suspected it was for sharpness. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have sunk into her brain with my pitiable strength.

I found three other daggers in sheaths around her waist, but none of them had runes. Her belt didn’t fit me, but I took it anyway, then I stuck the four sheathed weapons on my belt. A task that took an embarrassing amount of time to complete one handed.

Next, I added her coin pouch. Oran had had one of his own, but the three musty-keteers must have stolen it from him when they killed him. Although I couldn’t think of a use for silver and gold coins at the moment, there was no good reason not to take them along. It wasn’t like I would get fatigued from hauling them around or anything.

The last thing of interest was a set of tools that I assumed were for lock-picking, but I did not know how to use them. I threw them in my back pocket, because I assumed I’d experiment with them at some point. Just as soon as I found a lock.

That done, I went back to search the legless deader. It had a rather hefty coin purse that clung to its midsection by the grace of the gods. Somehow, getting cut in half, dragged around a crypt by a rope and then beaten hadn’t been enough to free the accessory. Using the enchanted dagger, I was more than happy to remove it and add it to my collection.

I found two rings on its hands. One had a fancy crest of a kingfisher on it I recognized from Oran’s memories as belonging to House Learmonth. They were a minor trading house that had a reputation for smuggling and thieving. The other ring was a black onyx ring, which I rather fancied. I put the onyx ring on and tossed the House ring in my coin purse.

After taking his rings, I stole his clothes too. The rich dark green robe was useless as a garment, considering blood drenched most of it, but I planned on using it in tandem with my earlier strategy of tossing it over someone’s head.

I undressed the elf after, just to see if it had hidden anything while it was alive. All I found was dead flesh that was unexpectedly covered in blood red ink tattoos. The artwork was crude and reminded me of prison tats. Its naked body was disturbing, looking like my own had been when I was 12.

Now armed with a “robe of darkness” and an enchanted dagger, I strode back into the chamber to finish the rest of the adventuring party.

The head-covering tactic worked like a charm. I put both of them down with barely a fight, and the resulting mana surge sent me up to the next level!