Amun.

***

The thin strand of Death's Road was a perilous bridge that connected the vast emptiness of the Underworld to the Curb of Death's Manor. The Abyssal Ocean, far below, sent impertinent gusts over my wavering frame, lashing out to sever flesh from bone, threatening to throw me into the sea of darkness. So, having no choice, I silenced those winds and thus found myself pushed ahead by their dying breath.

Down Death's Road, the silenced winds fueled me to push further. Just as much, if not more so than the winds threatened to push me over the edge. Just as much as the humans threatened to silence my existence.

Such a strange experience, it was. Seeing dissimilar things through the body and soul in the same instance. Watching the road wither and fall between my legs as my intestines spilled. I felt my soul leap down the thinning Road as my ki poured through my guts, creating a chain to entangle and whip him into a wall, broadening the road in turn.

Like all things, the humans either fled to live or died, silencing the winds to the small crackles of cold embers that soon fell to the Abyss below, where they would heat the sea to a tepid degree and provide my soul with the strength to keep stepping to Death's Door. It took considerable effort, concentrating that cold warmth into my solar plexus until I had enough strength to take one more step and repeat, time after time until I finally came upon it. A wall of ulna and radial bone that seemed to rise onto infinity.

Without much thought, I grasped the first handhold and tugged myself up to a foothold before taking a look back at the Abyssal Avenue, now crumbling away beneath me and the wall I now dangled helplessly from.

A wall that was not a wall at all, but Death's Curb.

***

Etan Za'Darmondiel.

***

I have rarely interacted with undead. All of those I have were hostile. None were sentient. As such, I was a bit disheveled, teaching a walking, joking corpse within a town of reeking death. However, I thought it to be a good thing, considering it allowed him to practice my teachings without end, it allowed me to increase the intensity of his training by the day. With my teachings coupled with his undying tenacity, it took him a bit longer than I took to be qualified in releasing ki in the wake of his movements to perform the contactless [Pantom Attack] and emit the energy from his feet to slow the rate of his falls, increase the distance of his leaps, or enhance the height of his jumps; [Ki Stream]. Soon after, the Second Ki Pond formed in its entirety, bringing about an evolution of his stunning Ki Flux: [Flux Necrosis.]

Rather than explain the ability, he left me to muse it over on my own while he seated his desiccated self atop a focus circle of his own making to meditate. Therein brought my moment of lamentation. It was just the High Matron, me, and those strange creatures accompanying Amun. Guarding him while his girls occasionally dropped in from the skies or clambered out of a puddle to wander around before flying off again, uncaring of the maggots and other carrion-loving creatures feasting on their master just as much as they did the cadavers surrounding him. Or the necropolis as a whole.

Capitalizing on his elven agility and making use of the many dropped or discarded weapons during the slaughter made for a city strewn with hundreds of mangled, sliced, and severed bodies; bringing a sense of deep despair to those who came here to investigate from afar. Rats, insects, vultures, and other carrion-loving creatures only made the sights more dreary. Especially after witnessing their… fondness, of Amun.

Within three days, reports of the battle made it to the coast and returned as a wave of hundreds. But, in the fashion of a true Nox Child, Amun did not budge when their torches appeared on the horizon. Nor did he move when they stalked the city of death. The darkness opened its eyes, snuffing out their flames, silencing their whispers, and dissipating their platoons through the abyssal madness.

Within six days, the stench of death and the negative energy had become so great that the dead began to rise without the necromancer's input. Zombies, mostly, but a fair amount of ghosts, revenants, and a few poltergeists as well. All kinds I have never before seen, and it seemed I was unseen to them. At least until they came too close and reacted unkindly to my unease. That served to turn my eyes away from Amun and onto his undead milling about the city. As such, it was quite a surprise to feel and hear the bellowing roars of a gelid inferno bloom from the town square on the tenth day.

Me and High Matron Etyl both turned with weapons ready and nearly attacked in the same breath upon seeing a tornado of blue-green fire whirling around a robed zombie- Amun, rising to lick its incorporeal flames against the surrounding rooftops before the flow suddenly reversed, cascading down and into the decayed flesh and bone.

I stood in morbid fascination, watching a scene I had witnessed countless times play out in reverse. Bones burning in arcane fire gave way to aqueous embers that flowed over the yellowed bone, leaving fresh nerves, dense muscle, and healthy skin in its wake; and when he was fully healed, the embers were smothered into nothingness.

We seemed invisible as he stood, surveying the many dead standing around him. Possibly recalling, as I was, the many instances of him dealing death to the barbaric humans. Now, though, they seemed worthy of respect. Four stood at the front of about twenty-five. One was the first brute he killed, recognized by the sizable chunk missing from his throat. The rest were the assumed leaders, riddled with crossbow bolts along their rears.

"Report."

The word rattled against my soul like a door knocker, freezing me still while the rest of the city shook awake in the most violent manner, giving rise to a legion of zombies, not undead shadows, who turned, poised their hands over their chests, and lowered their heads in submission to Amun.

<<"Should they not be shadows?">> I managed to ask after several silent minutes. <<"You do not seem surprised they are not.">>

<<"No.">> He laughed through his nose in that crude way. <<"Ki is an energy based on life. My necrotic Ki is no different. It is simply the final breath of life, stolen away. Something the Underworld wants not. Undead, however, grow stronger from life energies. It's why they kill.">>

<<"You speak as if the Underworld has sentience.">> Matron Etyl spoke up. But Amun only stared at her with an unreadable face before turning to his few hundred zombies, approaching those first four he killed to release an absurd amount of necrotic arcana into each of them. Changing them from simple husks of decayed flesh into agents of death wreathed in elemental fire and lightning.

After gifting them names, the newly sentient undead divided and directed the lesser undead around the city with the clear intent to rebuild the place in some fashion; paving the way for Iris to run through the streets, clutching the same skull from before. Only, it now looked… regal. Fiendishly so. Two long horns protruded from its brow, just above the strangest set of eyes I had ever seen move within a skull. One was solid gold, the other, solid silver, and yet a third draconic eye of blue sat in the center of its forehead. Sharp teeth filled the maw like Amun's, but they were black and lined with gold along the gums. The aquiline nose seemed to be made of marble or some other stone, making me think it was an actual beak. Strangely of all, its skin was charcoal-black like that of a drow but carved with strange markings and sigils throughout. And while its hair was white, it had the appearance and texture of feathers.

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"I thank thee, my Liege, for this glorious rebirth. I, Sir Richor of Lumbarde's Lore Legion, vow to uphold your standards and document all as your Skull of Lore. Or, as Lady Iris quoted, 'I am Little Sim-Sim."'

"Well met, Sir Richor." Amun bowed to the skull. "Your first task is a status update."

There was a pause before the thing started rambling. "Lainoara's Splint sits a few hours into the distance. They boast a fighting force of six hundred thirty-five warriors aiming to avenge the deaths of the 268 present. I estimate a ninety percent chance of them attacking on sight."

"Their funeral." Amun laughed, turning to me with a child-like grin. "Can I use some perks from my other class?"

"Which class?" I asked.

"Grandmaster Artificer."

Hearing that, I let the curiosity get the best of me and tried my best not to show my interest as I moved away, waving over my shoulder. "Sure. So long as you do not use them to fight."

From the shade of a nearby tree, I watched him take a hand axe and a dirk from the undead before he began coating mana over the weapons. Then came a flash of blue that dispersed to show much finer, sharper, and more elegant killing tools than he held just seconds before. It was undeniably the [Upgrade] perk, but that flash… it was but a moment, but it released an absurd amount of energy that felt unlike anything I had sensed before, and yet was instantly recognizable. Made evident by the fact that the process was said to take much longer than a mere moment.

Before I could ask, however, Amun leaped onto the rooftops and began darting off into the distance with his entourage of children and animals in tow. Hastily, I took flight with the High Matron trailing close behind me, a smile of wicked anticipation spread across her face.

"I am certain of you having questions regarding the Liege's perks. He has given me the liberty to disclose them."

"What?" I faced front, coming eye to golden eye with that strange skull from earlier, effortlessly keeping pace with me as I flew over the snowy plains. Then, High Matron Etyl came ear to ear with me a second later, spitting at the thing over the roaring winds. "What are you?"

"A Lore Skull, High Matron Etyl." It said. "A biological machination, operated in the same way a soul would a body. Much like Kit." The skull pointed its horns at the strange fox running alongside the now-gargantuan celestial wolves. "My purpose, now and forever more, is to observe and record the Liege's unbiased history, so that it may be archived in an intangible space, accessed through various means."

"So then, you are a speaking archive." I surmised.

"A crass descriptor, but yes, Master Etan."

"And the little one made you?"

"Iris Cole, High Matron, correct." The Skull nodded. "The Liege's protege in artificing and engineering."

<<"Interesting.">> The High Matron muttered, distancing herself.

For once, I had to agree. But I also had to wonder about the other three girls. Sadly, wondering was all I could do, as my duty was more prevalent.

"Once he faced Death's Curb, the Liege was granted the passive skill, [Touch of Death], to aid his climb to Death's Door. Its use is twofold. The Touch can be used to strengthen his grip on the Curb, giving the Liege the means to climb faster. Or, the Touch can be used to rebuild broken footholds, giving him insurance should he lose his grip. And then there is the [Anti-Vital Pulse.]" The skull announced with resolute finality. "Similar to the Ki Pulse, it is activated during Furious Blows but is used to highlight ailments, weaknesses, and other such debilitations."

While there were many questions I had for the skull, they were put on hold by the human settlement looming in the distance, prompting High Matron Etyl to rejoin the conversation. "What is the plan? Do you know, Head?"

"Sir Richor, High Matron Etyl." The skull replied with all the patience but none of the respect. "The Liege aims to kill two goblins with one thrust by taking Lady Iris and Madames Blude, Redd, and Sam to the seas whilst he rendezvous with a few associates."

'Even the dead speak highly of them.' I thought, looking at the girls in question. I looked even closer at the mana swirling around them as they moved. It was unlike any seen around humans. Almost... elven. Elegant. Graceful. They were adored by mana in ways that only we were. Like a lesser version of Amun, and a somewhat comparable version of me and the High Matron. So too did they have power. Magical organs in their spirits that were similar and dissimilar to mana cores. Silver spheres of scalding steam, hard ice, and swirling water. And… something blue, cold, and hard like metal.

They treated the air as if it were water, the older three. Swimming as fast as Amun sprinting and Iris barreling through the occasional tree or outcropping. Playing, all of them, just like Amun was, treating the rare but hostile passersby like angry but harmless animals. Uncaring, just like Amun was, going as far as to withdraw canvases to paint the landscape of a quaint town settled between the fork of a river while the others cooked dinner.

I had none of that dinner, nor did Amun. We distanced ourselves from their camp, putting us on the far side of the river from the well-defensible city, shaped like a slice of pie with canals breaking up the walls in the distance. Naturally, neither a moat nor a wall would be an issue for monks who could walk on water and climb vertical surfaces with ease; skills Amun was here to master.

In three days, the brutes behind the wall learned that very lesson through the act of observing an apparent drow train at paces only the heartiest of mystics could compete with. Amun toiled day in and day out, training his Ki to be gathered around his hands and feet to increase his climbing speed to an uncanny degree. His girls would seek me out when he fell into meditation, pleading with me to help them with their forms as Abbot Eiriol had done.

The morning his third Ki Pond formed, four days later, a healthy Amun crossed the river with fits wreathed in ethereal blue fire, and the barbaric humans responded with a volley of arrows.

The rest of us responded in turn. The girls took to the skies with me and High Matron Etyl while the celestial wolves took off in opposing directions to encircle the town in walls of icy flowers and fiery vines.

While the beasts stood guard behind their self-imposed walls, the skull darted forward, spewing a mass of white from its maw that dispersed into a cloud of large spore-like bugs that clung to various surfaces across the city, and to Amun. They danced around him, focusing a small pupil on his frame as he dodged and deflected the shower of arrows as best he could. He managed to return some of them to their senders but got hit by many more still, although not quite enough to bring him to Death's Door.

As Amun Skipped With the Wind to close the distance, I quickly became engrossed in the battle. With the Ki-Empowered Strikes granted from the third Pond, Amun felled his foes much faster than before. But with his refusal to block many attacks, he was brought to the brink much faster as well. He was hacked, slashed, beaten, and stabbed ever more, eventually tainting the sky-blue fires of his fists with a shade of pestilent green.

That was when the battle turned into a slaughter. As the nature of his Ki changed, I began to understand the Head's archaic words from before. It happened quickly. A lightly armored fighter raised his sword, opening up his armpit for Amun's arcing foot to meet. With the impact, foul fires ebbed into the reeling man before those same fires flowed back into Amun, glowing much brighter than before. His bones popped and cracked. His muscles bulged and spasmed. Then, he lashed out with a backhand as he turned to an approaching barbarian, shattering the fighter's jaw. In turn making the fires ebb and flow again so that his bones would crack and his muscles would bulge and the barbarian before him would pale as the undying drow's leg arced toward him, ultimately denting his chest plate.

Each blow, I realized, each block, stole a little bit of life from his victims and turned it into raw strength; strengthening his handholds on Death's Curb. With such an ability, he did not even need to fight. He could simply steal vitality as he was damaged, allowing his Ki to keep him standing far beyond the brink while the Touch of Death felled his enemies in his stead. As he was now, his fists were denting metal and cracking stone. I could not begin to imagine how much strength he would steal by the end of his walk. Imagining the end of his path was impossible. Let alone the end of this year.

That was without considering the physical ability mutations of the martial classes.