[Undead Ice-drill Extractor [arm n. 4]] [lv: 35]
[status: Anti-piercing vibration, Physical resistance plus 35%, Mental resistance plus 100%, Magic resistance plus 5%, …]
[malus: Dismantled, Ice in the circuits, Broken circuits, Minor damage, Medium damage, Severe damage, Out of fuel, …]
I drop the limb, which makes a dull thud hitting the ice.
As for defensive [status], it is in decidedly good shape.
I have never seen so many [malus] together. Okay, I've never used [Scan] on a single limb—
But what strange creature is this?
Is [Undead] simultaneously following the name of an object? Some sort of icebreaker-extractor? I imagine the spikes break the ice…
…then absorb the flaming gas below and funnel it into those tubes.
Ah! How strange would that be!?
I need to use [Scan] on a whole specimen! The limb alone only adds to the confusion in my thoughts!
“N, then?”
Fulzo is standing. He is weighing the fragments of the [Umbrella of murder] in his hands.
“I didn't think it could break easily.”
“Yeah. I think it's thanks to one of its countless defensive statuses. It's crazy. I've never seen anything like it. It's a kind of golem without being a golem.”
“In what sense? What do you mean?”
I bend down to observe the limb with the spike acting as a foot. “It is an undead. But at the same time, rather than having skills like us, it just has a lot of status and malus. I believe the penalties derive from its current condition. Ergo, if we could reassemble it—I think it would be operational again.”
“Are you saying that thing is a cross between a magical construct and a living being?”
Yep.
I nod.
But many things do not add up.
Gron told me it was a cat golem. A miraculous and unique specimen. Currently, due to the [malus: Deceased], I can consider it the only case of an undead golem.
There is something different at the origin of these beings.
Furthermore, it cannot be ruled out that they are the work of Gron's creator, Dal-Dazzer. Even considering them as possible failed experiments, they must have been here since immemorial time.
“Ful.”
“Ful?”
“Can I call you Ful?”
“F-fine.”
Ci-cin.
“The other creatures you destroyed?”
“No, none of them reacted. Honestly, we passed around the others. Despite Kavfyra's insistence. The Titan was the first time I got out of control.”
I cannot get any more information from Fulzo.
I doubt even Kavfyra or Amerio have any idea about the situation. They are acting on their doctrines. I cannot gain anything by questioning them.
{N. Some Necrohounds just passed me. I guess they're yours. But weren't magical skills forbidden? Ah! No, I can use Shadow wall! When I reach the fugitives, I knock them down and make myself heard!}
No, Gron. Wait for my—
Right.
It does not hear my thoughts. [Prayer] is a one-way form of communication. I know who it is and where the sender is, but I cannot reply.
Although with [Dungeon path], I could reach it.
I scratch my nose and try to rearrange my thoughts. Too many things have happened in the last few hours.
“Ful, I ask you so as not to disrespect you. Do you care about getting revenge?”
“Hm, are you talking about those two?”
“Yes. I know you may not understand me, but I have no interest in chasing them. From the information I have gathered, it is clear that the Underwasteland will run its course. I have other things to do.”
The elf twitches his mouth in a crooked smile. “As you wish. If you don't care, I can't help but adapt. Mercenaries look elsewhere. Revenge is a spare time activity.”
Oh great.
I will think of Gron when it communicates its position again.
“So, if I may, what would you like to do? You saved my life, and if you didn't want to help me anymore—yeah, er, I would understand and step aside.”
My snake tail wraps around me like a scarf.
I try to unwind it, but it resists. I give up.
“Pff. You can imagine, I understand. But I think I'll help you. I'm looking for a way to get below this plane. Maybe I'll even find a hospitable place for your people.”
“Sure. I regret not being able to do anything.”
“Hm-hmm, don't worry. This is my empire, and you are a guest. Wait a moment.”
I approach Fulzo. I bend down to rummage through my backpack. I collect the pieces of the [Umbrella of murder].
They shine.
They attract each other.
I contemplate the cracked surface and run my thumb over the sharp edges.
I blink at Fulzo.
“I will be right back.”
[Dungeon path]
♦
I emerge into my room.
Finally, a warmer climate. I stretch out my arms, toes, and tails.
Ah, how good it feels at home.
Between drafts and shaking windows, I reach the room. I place the sword pieces on the table and place the umbrella to the side.
I arrange the blade so that it is reassembled.
So, it should repair itself faster, I think. Since it has become an object part of the Underwasteland, like my clothes, walls, and structures, it should self-repair.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
While I am at home, I check the corals. On the walls, they now give the impression of bluish mold with rainbow reflections.
The chessboard is a branched and immobile monster.
I have to find a solution…
…but I must first find access to…
…hmm, did I forget again?
…why?
Ci-cin.
«Fsss.»
I turn to where the snake-headed tail is pointing.
The Atmosphere-eater is leaning against the wall. The veins of error have become more pervasive. The blade seems to boil slowly.
Right.
Even though I do not remember everything, I know Gron remembers the rest.
For now, I'd better arm myself and go back downstairs. Once I find an access point below that floor, I will discuss what to do with Gron.
I know that its goal partially coincides with mine.
I must have faith in my only devotee.
Who knows why it became [Priest] of me, who am not even a deity.
Well, go and remember…
With the tails, I help myself to lift the Atmosphere-eater. The blade collapses and becomes solid again. Except for a few bubbles from which resorbed teeth emerge, the blade is as hot and heavy as ever.
Look, do you know what I do? The [Sanctuary] is gone anyway. There's no point in carrying that burden.
[Necromancy]
Mircalla takes shape from dust.
Her green tresses, the lightning tiara adorning her forehead. The angry expression.
The [Heroine] was incinerated by the [Devil] in an attempt to save her planet. Not bad either that her [lv] has defense from the [Evil shield].
That is also why I have not had a human extinction event.
They must have all been [obliterated]…
“So then?”
“Apologizes. I wish you would keep your sword.”
“It's yours now. But I understand. All right.”
Mircalla stretches out her hands, and I pass the sword to her on the hilt side.
I do not know if it will work, but it costs nothing to try.
I disperse [Necromancy].
It works!
No.
Ci-cin, Ci-cin, Ci-cin, Ci-cin, Ci-cin, Ci-cin…
Shakes from tremors.
Cold.
Fear.
A strange glimmer freezes some clouds of dust in mid-air.
They begin to move slowly, with small jerks. My wrist starts to hurt.
The pain goes to the head.
I put my hands to my ears. I feel a strong sense of nausea.
What does it mean? What have I done now!?
Suddenly, the ash disperses, and the pain passes.
The wrist continues to tremble. I have to check that I have not contracted any particular [status] or [malus].
“Open.”
The black miasma. The grimoire manifests in my hand.
My heartbeat slowed down. I relax as the pages scroll by.
[lv: 88]
[hp], [ap], and [ip].
All normal. The values are correct.
No [status]. Neither [malus].
But—
I read a new entry. In mixed color, a changing prism on the pages.
[-??]
The error.
I know it is a mistake. Having mixed one of my [skills] with the Atmosphere-eater…
…yes, maybe I did something stupid.
Now—
{N! Where are your hounds!? I'm hiring those two cowards, but I can't see yours anymore! Ah! That one shoots chains of fire!}
Gron!
Damn, I gave up on the [Necrohounds] after talking to Fulzo. Did I underestimate the enemy?
Are they as strong as Fulzo said!?
Ah—I would like a [skill] to communicate with Gron remotely.
I must hurry.
[Dungeon path]
♦
“Gron these—”
“Lots of fire on the embers. Completely disappointed. Sorry if I bothered you.”
“Oh, my bad. It was a good way to find you, though—”
Kavfyra and Amerio are disarmed and imprisoned by a dozen zombies.
Kavfyra's hammer sickle and tower shield are on the ground just ahead.
The two do not appear injured. However, Amerio coughs and remains calm in the grip.
Kavfyra, on the other hand, writhes and screams, calls out to Ivykku and curses Gron and the zombies.
“Gron, since when is your ap enough to support so many undead?”
I did not use [Scan] on Gron. How do I know he has few [ap]?
“It is a passive skill. Undead merchant. It allows me to summon ten undead of level five or lower, for the cost of six. Furthermore, the Vampiric puppeteer skill allows me to gain ap from damage dealt via zombies. Being your Priest is remarkable. It counts as some deity of life and death. Prr. And therefore, if I consider that—”
I stop listening to Gron's monologue. I fear it will continue to explain its qualities for a long time.
Instead, I focus my attention on the two prisoners.
I cannot judge them, nor do I have an interest in taking revenge.
On the other hand, they do not have any useful information, nor can I send them back. I would risk killing them.
[Sanctuary] has already been broken, yet the bodies of Vallycum, Drucyw, and Clavynia remain inert.
As well as that [Bakenekro] girl.
Amerio coughs again.
Kavfyra spits in my direction, but I am far enough away.
That gesture reminds me of the first time I called Mircalla back. I still could not get the undead to express themselves with [Necromancy], but she spit me out.
Sigh.
I miss people like Lajal and Sylviette. With them, I can spend time in healthier ways.
Stop dwelling on these things. I have to figure out what to do.
I approach Kavfyra. She looks at me with gritted teeth.
Also, on her knees, she is tall enough to look me in the face.
Ci-cin.
I feel my neck and cheeks redden.
I am a bit nervous.
My breath breaks, and my breath puffs fade before that angry face.
[Scan]
[lv: 17] [xp: 1054]
[name: Kavfyra Alvario]
[type: Elf]
[job: Cursed priestess]
[hp: 3214]
[c: 3] [s: 2]—[d: 1] [i: 4]
[ap: 2411]
[s: 2] [i: 4]—[a: 1] [d: 1]
[status: Liminal transmigration], [malus: Liminal enchained]
Meanwhile, I checked [class], and it turned out to be a [Nomad of madness], which I do not know what it means.
The [stats] themselves are nothing special.
Interesting.
Entries like [Liminal transmigration] and [Liminal enchained], are new. It is these two voices that hold the secret.
Crossing [Sanctuary] with [Astral journey]—
Awakening the contained creature a magical reaction must have occurred.
Hence the change of [status] and the addition of a [malus].
I cannot say for sure. However, I will confirm this by checking more carefully.
“What are you doing!?”
“I'll check your stats.”
“My what? Don't fool me. Only great scholars can! This is exactly what the wand is for. There's no way a monster can read the stats.”
“…”
“Are you silent now?”
«Fsss!»
“You know, I'm a scholar then. Because I'm checking your stats.” I smile.
How nervous. How would my father have acted in the face of such obtuseness?
But not even evaluating situations… well, I am not the one surrounded by zombies.
I shake my head and close her stats.
I approach the hunchback, who is also tall, Amerio.
He says nothing, shaking with coughs. In his spasms, I glimpse the skin under his hood.
An iridescent glow, pustules?
His head is bowed again, and I cannot see.
[Scan]
[lv: 19] [xp: 1570]
[name: Amerio I’Ion Py]
[type: Elf]
[job: Arcane eater]
[hp: 111]
[c: 1] [d: 1]—[s: 1] […]
[ap: 4121]
[i: 4] [s: 1]—[a: 2] [c: 1]
[status: Liminal transmigration], [malus: Liminal enchained, Corruption]
[Corruption]
[Corruption]! This is a [malus] I already know!
The gargoyles! The gargoyles protecting the broken door from the [Devil]!
I close the [Scan] screen and check on the panting hooded elf.
The numbers do not add up.
[Evil shield] is a passive [skill] that allows the [Devil] to [obliterate] anyone below [lv: 40]. And I am sure it has other similar or even more nefarious [skills].
Mircalla survived [Evil shield], being incinerated instantly, as she was above [lv] forty. This was during her life. This is from undead summoned with [Necromancy].
Ergo, the [Devil] cannot corrupt through contact.
Those gargoyles are at [lv: 35] and Amerio is at [lv: 19].
The corals that grow from [corruption] tend to corrupt the rest as well. The same chess pieces made with the [Devil]'s bones. Since the chain reaction of errors began, react positively.
Contamination must occur via miasmas or other forms of indirect contact.
Or there is a source of [corruption]. Maybe diabolical objects on the planet of these elves.
How is it possible that Amerio has the [Devil]'s disease?
“Amerio.”
The elf raises his head. His hood leaves only his chin and part of his mouth exposed.
I shake my shoulders and purse my mouth. The face that I see is torn with small coral pustules and scars.
“What more do you want? Kill us, right?”
“I don't think I will. I would like to know if the plague of your world is the one whose signs you bear on your skin.”
“Insightful. That, the Half-demons, the brigands, and the false gods. Ivykku has warned the righteous against monsters who pose as gods. Horrible creatures like you, or the God of Wisdom.”
I ignore yet another gratuitous insult. I am so sure that when die, they will have to give an account to the System.
What is interesting… God of Wisdom sounds familiar to me.
Very familiar.
Ah—The head…
Is it related to [corruption]?
By [Half-demon], it must mean other beings like Kirlh'iau or, perhaps, its kind. Maybe a cult, of which it was the [Champion].
In any case, I no longer need these people.
Ci-cin.
With my tails, I pick up Kavfyra's staff from the ground. It is too long for me, although the hammer and sickle are well-balanced and small.
I hear insults being muttered, but I turn around and walk towards Gron.
“So, prr.”
“Take their backpacks and dangerous items such as explosives. Leave them free. Let them continue their research. Ivykku will lead them, right?”
Gron shakes and orders the zombies to take their backpacks and other equipment.
The zombies reach me and place their hands on my arms and shoulders. Gron creeps between my feet.
I look at the two unarmed elves. I cannot understand Amerio's expression, but Kavfyra is angry. Her veins are pulsating, and she is considering attacking to get back her equipment.
Such a pity.
[Dungeon path]