Markus had made his decision. He would live this life.

He had always believed that ‘living’ and ‘not dying’ were two fundamentally different states. The former was what he had once experienced—a vibrant existence filled with purpose and connection. The latter, however, was the grim reality he faced now, where he could stew in his emotions and let time drag him along like a mindless undead wandering aimlessly through the world.

It wouldn’t be easy, though. He lay on the blackened earth, tainted by his own aura, the remnants of his passive skills lingering around him like an unwanted shroud. “I wish it were that easy…” he murmured, staring up at the stars that slowly revealed themselves in the night sky.

How was he supposed to truly live this life?

Romance seemed impossible. He couldn’t offer any pleasure to the woman he might choose, nor could he provide the life she deserved. The long-living races and immortals who roamed this world had better things to pursue than a connection with a golem like him. Moreover, he had long since lost the functions that made such intimacy possible.

Wealth was another consideration, but even if he aimed for it, who would he leave it to? He had no idea how his lifespan worked, but he had always believed that eternity was a white lie—a concept that couldn’t escape the confines of human perception. The idea of vast riches or large domains held no appeal for him; they felt hollow and empty.

“I can’t even think of a good reason to pursue eternal life…”

Markus had long accepted that he couldn’t pursue ‘human’ desires, so what remained for him? In order to build connections, what else was there for him in this vast world? Surely, there had to be something waiting for him beyond the constraints of his existence. As he pondered this, the night deepened around him, and he felt the weight of possibility lingering just out of reach, a whisper on the wind that beckoned him to seek out a new purpose in the darkness.

Hunger.

That was what he was feeling.

Markus wanted to be fulfilled.

To feel fulfilled.

“No man is an island,” he uttered the quote from his old world.

In order to build connections, there were a lot of things he could actually do…

And then he remembered his bad temper. Even now, he was fairly sure he only needed to be triggered and his anger issues would come like a berserker to whoever unlucky sod caused him being triggered. It was a very mundane motivation, yet he found it most important.

As shameful as it sounded, Markus… had always hated shrinks and never had proper treatment for his nasty anger issues. Back then, playing [Wonder Path] was enough outlet for him to vent. Of course, the broken LCD screen, keyboards, and mouse weren’t convincing anyone… but he found them to interestingly work.

“Does a shrink even exist in this world?”

Ironically, Markus found the solution to his dilemma rather quickly.

“It seems what I need is an adventure,” he mused.

He envisioned a path filled with purpose: finding a cause to believe in, mastering new skills, and making friends across the vast expanse of this unfamiliar yet familiar realm. He pictured himself traversing diverse landscapes, teaching those he encountered along the way, and documenting his journey as he carved a niche for himself in this world.

Maybe he could even build a base of operations someday, a place he could call home. He yearned for knowledge and self-discovery, seeking to challenge himself in ways he had never imagined before.

Who could tell what wonders awaited him?

Perhaps, along this winding road, he might even stumble upon a genuine shrink—a guide who could help him navigate the turbulent waters of his emotions and the complexities of his existence.

Markus laughed, amused by his own thoughts. “Ha ha ha ha~! That’s rich! I like that! No. I loved it!”

He stood from the mass grave, dusted off the remnants of earth clinging to his form, and walked down the hill with purpose. As he reached the base, he located a sizable boulder. Its surface was rough and unyielding. With a firm grip, he hoisted it above his head and carried it back to the mass grave.

Finally, Markus summoned his [Ender Sword].

Using the blade, he began to carve into the stone, etching words that resonated with compassion and honor. Each stroke was deliberate, written in sharp and bold letters that transformed the long-lost dark elves into figures of heroism.

“In Darkness They Fought, In Memory They Rise”

It was better this way, Markus thought, than allowing their memory to fade as hapless elves who had fallen prey to a fellow dark elf and a witch. Witches, after all, carried a bad name even in this world, their reputations tainted by fear and misunderstanding.

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Eldergrove was a village of dark elves.

And dark elves have traditions and fears.

The ‘sickness’ caused by their own healer would probably be taken with exaggerated grief, but that was better than them learning she was a witch.

Markus decided to tell them she was a rogue necromancer instead.

If the Eldergrove Village learned of the involvement of a witch, they’d probably not give these poor souls even a proper send-off. While the dark elves practiced sky burial, they would on rare occasion bury them under the earth if they died in a heroic battle.

Markus decided to postpone informing the village about the cause of the ‘sickness’ since darkness had already settled over Eldergrove. Instead, he chose to venture deeper into the Dark Forest.

If this were the original storyline, Lianaresel—known simply as Liana—would have succeeded in transforming the entire Eldergrove village into a Dead Pit. The Dark Forest's connection with the Underworld would have strengthened, and hordes of undead would rise, their numbers growing exponentially. Among those who would benefit from her dark ritual was a Death Knight, a formidable presence that had existed in the Dark Forest long before the Eldergrove Village was even formed.

The term “Death Knight” was mainly associated with either incredibly powerful undead or the A-tier skill known as Death Knight. As Markus pressed deeper into the Dark Forest, the twigs beneath his feet became gnarly and more rotten, the very essence of decay surrounding him. The atmosphere grew heavier as if the forest itself was warning him of the impending encounter.

Soon, he found himself face to face with one of the most fearsome villains and mysterious undead the game had to offer. The first Death Knight and a powerful Dullahan of her own right stood before him. From a distance, she appeared as a figure clad in plain armor, the chest plate adorned with an intricate carving of a wolf in a symbol of ferocity and loyalty intertwined.

Her name was Raven.

As he approached, her helm seemed to evaporate like fading water, revealing a striking woman with a pale face, piercing blue eyes, and long, flowing platinum blond hair. “What do you seek, shadowless one?” she asked, her voice both melodic and commanding.

Markus was momentarily taken aback. The Death Knight had always been depicted as a fearsome male figure in the game, and yet here stood a woman, shattering one of the many misconceptions that had surrounded her character. He couldn’t help but feel amused that he was among the first to learn this truth. Many players had argued over the Dullahan's orientation for a long time, and now he found himself in the presence of the real Raven.

Back in the game, Raven had been a madly raving character, infected by the Underworld and weighed down by millions of grieving souls. Markus recalled the chaos she had wreaked. She was a figure of despair whose power stemmed from her connection to the tortured spirits she carried. But here, in this moment, she appeared composed.

There was a balance of strength and mystery around her.

Markus looked at Raven, the Death Knight before him, and asked, “Do you know what cures anger?”

Since he had no way to ask if she were a shrink or a therapist in a context she could understand, he had to be roundabout. It was as good a try as any. Talking to someone wise and long-lived should yield an answer, right?

“I am… sorry…” she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I have no idea.”

Markus clicked his tongue in annoyance. Her response did little to soothe his frustration. Yet, he wasn’t angry enough to lash out at her. Instead, he turned around and began to walk away, hoping to leave the conversation behind.

“You are leaving… just like that?” Raven asked, her confusion evident. “Aren’t you here for something, or was that just for that question?”

Markus glanced back at her, answering honestly, “I was planning to kill you if you happened to be raving mad or anything. Anyway, keep your nose clean, and I don’t have to end you. Farewell, Raven.”

“W-wait...” Raven called, her voice softer, almost pleading.

Markus paused with his curiosity piqued. He turned to face her fully, his emotions turned to irritation and then intrigue. What more could she possibly want to say?

“How did you know my name?” Raven asked with a hint of suspicion creeping into her tone.

Markus didn’t mind slipping with his word choices, but for it to be pointed out to his face displeased him. He reasoned to himself that it wasn’t an outrageous question. It was a hassle to think up a reason on the fly while under pressure. In the end, he decided to be vague about it.

“You must have heard it wrong,” he replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“No… I heard it perfectly fine,” Raven insisted. “Raven is indeed my name. You should clean your ears.”

A golem with clean ears? That’s impossible. Markus doubted if he even had ears. The thought made him smirk, and he decided to adopt a more thuggish tone in his speech. “I see, so your name is Raven. I should remember it since you are such a pretty dame. It is funny though. You are named after such a bird when nothing ‘screams’ raven about you.”

Raven frowned at his comment, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, you are right… Most girls or boys that were named Raven were given the name because of their dark hair or dark eyes… but I am different.”

Markus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Different, huh? How so?”

She crossed her arms with a hint of defiance in her posture. “I am not bound by the expectations that come with my name. I may not look like the bird, but I embrace the darkness in my own way. Besides, it’s more about the strength that the name carries rather than how I appear.”

“Darkness? Why are you talking like that? I feel embarrassed…” Markus admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. The embarrassment was multiplied for him, especially as he recalled his own recent behavior—talking like a brooding character while fighting, digging graves, talking to himself, and straight praying to no one in particular.

Raven shook her head, her expression earnest. “There is nothing embarrassing about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I believe you…” Markus replied, trying to brush off the discomfort. Yet, as he stood there, he could smell a questline right in front of him. The air was thick with potential.

Raven the Death Knight had always been known only as a villainous NPC. Yet, beyond that role, it was possible she had a storyline of her own for players to explore. Before she had succumbed to madness, she had been a reasonable undead who could converse, a character who deserved more than the fate that had befallen her. Markus reflected that if Liana hadn’t taken that step of creating the Dead Pit, he might have taken the time to understand her rather than simply dispatch her after a fight.

“I have a request,” Raven said, breaking through his thoughts.

Markus turned his attention back to her, intrigued. “A request? For me?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her demeanor shifting from defiant to solemn. “I seek your help in unraveling the curse that binds me to this state. I do not want to be just another villain in the eyes of the world. I want to reclaim my purpose. I want… redemption.”