Thank you to Uncle Woody for proofreading apart of this.
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Chapter 5: The way of the warrior
That night, there was no starry sky. Only a lone crescent moon in the middle of the dark sky. It has been a long time since he last saw the moon, he never thought it was that beautiful.
For god knows how long, he had wandered around Krashapan forest while absorbing the forest’s dark energy.
By avoiding dangerous being with his sixth sense, he managed to survive despite being the weakest type of undead that has zero fighting capabilities.
He felt no hunger nor fatigue. For a long time, he just walked, walked, and walked. Sometimes he stopped as he was reminiscing the past. Then he walked again as he felt the need to get stronger.
Over the time his five senses slowly returned. He felt he had the strength of a human teenage boy.
As he watched the crescent moon. He remembered the past. Was it the same moon that appeared in the night sky as he was chased by the foul gnolls? He did not remember, nay he couldn’t remember.
He simply had vague memories regarding what occurred after he successfully relayed the information about the gnolls to the army.
The only survivors were him and a guy named ‘Crow’. That was when the army noticed that he could use the beautiful thing known as magic.
With his ability, he was quickly transferred to the medical department in the army. His status as a slave was also revoked at that same time.
*****
While he walked around Krashapan, he saw many dead around him. The undead monsters were vicious, even amongst themselves.
It was the world where the strong devour the weak. Undead monsters would feast on the energy from the enemy they’ve killed.
The more energy you gain, the more power you received. That was the reason undead hunt anything weaker than them, including their fellow undead.
As he got stronger from absorbing the dark energy around Krashapan, he went back to the place he was revived as undead.
He used to avoid that placed as it made him remembered painful memories. Regardless, he needed to go there to retrieve something.
When he turned to undead, everything burned by the dark flame. His leather armor, the arrows, and spears that were thrust into his body and his fleshed.
Everything burned except his bone…..and his weapon. It was a special weapon that was crafted by a famous blacksmith. A sword gifted by a special someone.
Like meeting an old friend, he felt the sword he held completed himself. He swung it around to test it. He thought the sword still as sturdy as ever.
One minor flaw, he felt the sword was a bit heavier than he remembered. He guesses that was because his strength was not as what it used to be.
As he retrieved his sword, he continued to wander the cursed forest. It was time for him to hunt.
*******
He might be a bit stronger, but he knew he couldn’t beat just any monsters in Krashapan. With his sixth sense, he carefully determined whether he should engage or not.
For the moment, the only thing he didn’t hesitate to crush was the same type of undead as him, the ‘Walking Skeleton’.
Sadly, the walking skeleton didn’t have much energy to be absorbed. If he stayed with that pace, all of his enemies may die from old age before he could get strong enough to exact his revenge.
From experience, his light magic purifies his soul and brought him back without hurting his undead body. He knew his light magic wouldn’t hurt his undead body from that.
To get stronger, he needed to defeat a stronger opponent. So he could have a lot of energy to be absorbed.
Along the way, he found ‘skeleton soldier’, ‘skeleton warrior’, ‘nine head dog’, ‘zombie warrior’ and all other types of undead monsters that were stronger than him.
But he skipped all of them. He wants to beat a stronger undead monster. Strong enough to make him evolve with a single kill.
As he kept on looking, he finally found one. A grotesque looking face and its body were like a lump of meats badly sewn together.
Its hands and feets considered small compared to its belly that could fit five fully grown pigs tied together.
Its weapon was a five meters chain that had a big hook at the end of it. The chain was bestowed by the king of Krashapan, the overlord. It was the sign that the undead in front of him was on a different level.
It was a zombie type monster that corrupted its prey with the miasma from its body and killed them with the nasty chain hook. If recalled from a book that the monsters in front of him called ‘ Zombie Butcher’.
Although he knew how fearsome the undead in front of him, he remained calm. He lifts his sword higher than his head and took a stance.
It was his usual posed when using a sword. He loses the count on how many souls left this world. That day, the number increased again.
“( Speed Enchanted)”
‘Lightning Speed’
Before his enemy could do anything, he charged to his enemy with abnormal speed. A speed that far exceeded any normal ‘walking skeleton’ could be achieved.
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“(Strength enchant!)”
‘Titan’s Strength’
‘Moonlight Slashes’
In a blink of eyes, he slashes the ‘zombie butcher’ to several pieces. In less than two seconds, he won the fight.
The dark energy released by the zombie he defeated absorbed wholly by his body. As he completely absorbed the energy, he felt a surge of strength in his skeletal body.
He felt his bone thicken, his strength increased and his mana pool enlarged. With a single fight, he evolved into a ‘Skeleton Warrior’.
As he watched the zombies fleshes dissolved in the corrupt air of Krashapan, he thought that after spending time wandering the forest, he still had it. His fighting skill didn’t go rust.
He wasn’t a born warrior. His reflex, strength, speed, instinct, and skill were things he acquired from countless battles and rigorous training.
It was the result of years of hard work, definitely not something he gained in a day. He was desperate to get stronger just because he wants to survive. Just because he wanted to live.
He remembered the time when he childishly wants the power to protect. Every time he remembered that he found even his skeletal fingers cringing.
It was around two years after he first realized he needed to get stronger. Maybe he just needed a reason to get stronger. Or maybe he just that naive back then.
It wasn’t wrong wanting to become strong. But it just wrong wanting the power to protect. It was wrong because that deed leads him to his demise. As he thought back, it was stupid of him to be happy with that letter of recommendation.
****
“We need more clean cloth!”
“H-Here!”
“We are running out of drugs!”
“Waters! We need waters!”
“AARRGH! It hurts damn it!”
The situation in the army’s medical camp was as hectic as ever. They were up against the orc this time. The fierce two weeks battles have a staggering casualty of three thousand people.
After the army officials realized Hans healing abilities from the Gnolls incident two years ago, Hans was put under Sir Rochenveilt, the head medic at the army.
His slave status was revoked as he prepared to be part of the medical team. As he was still a kid, he only ran errands as an assistant medic on top of learning from Sir Rochenveilt the art of light magic and medical treatment.
But in a war where the medical team short of hand, he was given an exception where he could practice his healing magic on patients.
Hans was the only person beside Sir Rochenveilt that could use healing magic. It was highly regarded abilities as it could reduce the number of casualties and increased army endurance in prolonged wars.
The first war he used his healing magic on patients, he remembered he fell in a daze after three hours of casting healing magics nonstops.
The Flood of patients in a war was a given. Sir Rochenveilt told him to carefully managed his mana and only healed people that could fight again in the next battles.
Healing heavily injured soldiers was wasted of mana. Never wasted time-saving dying soldiers and treat the crippled lasted. It was the ironclad rule in the medic’s camp. It was cruel, but the most efficient way to preserve in wars.
Over the years, Hans had saws countless death. He screamed, cried, and mourned for the dead. Maybe because he was a kid, or maybe because he was just naive, he blamed himself every-time someone died in front of him.
He past out countless times as he strained himself casting healing magic over and over again. In these two years, he diligently learning light magic and medical treatment as he wanted to save more lives.
The screams of the patients, the shouts of the medics, and the footsteps of medical assistants, the busy medic’s tent was the same as ever.
As everyone doing their works, the sounds of war trumpet echoing through the entire army made the camp fell in silence. They knew what it meant but their hearts needed someone to clarify it.
*toc* *toc*
Not long after, a teenage boy came in. He has a thin body with bulging eyes and red hair stretched to his shoulders with a part of it covering his face. He was quite nimble, but his fake left leg couldn’t hide the fact that he was crippled.
As Crow came in running into the tent where Hans was in, he gathered his breaths before he announced.
“Our enemy had retreated! We won against the orc!”
As they heard the news, some people screamed out of joys, some people crying a river as their lives were preserved. Regardless, almost everyone was happy the war ended.
Almost everyone.
‘HEAL’
At the corner of the tent, a nine-year-old kid repeatedly casting healing magic to his patients. The war has ended, he could finally treat the heavily wounded, the cripple, and the dying.
“Hold on for a little longer.”
‘HEAL’
“You can do it”
‘HEAL’
“Please don’t die on me!”
‘HEAL’
The joyous moment when the war ended, Hans could only sit on the floor as he ran out of mana. This time, the numbers of casualties were tripled compared to the previous war. Again, he could only felt despair.
****