The man found himself at the gate of the city once more. The size of the wall still astounded him.

As he admired the wall he slowly started to look elsewhere on the structure. Eventually resting his eyes on the gate, and the lands beyond.

He hadn't paid too much attention to what was beyond the gate, he hadn't been to them since the finding of the Fenrir corpse, and then he was more focused on the damage to the gate than what was on the other side.

On the otherside of the gate was some grass, that was slowly transitioning into sand. It seemed that he was in a city that was surrounded by a desert.

It was valuable information, but the man did not plan to leave the city any time soon. Maybe once he ran out of material for smithing, but... He looked at the gate, or rather the massive amount of scrap metal. He doubted he'd run low anytime soon.

Regardless, he hadn't come to just stare out from the gate into the desert. He turned the way he hadn't gone last time, and walked down the street.

This street was very shaded, being next to a wall that was so large, and then also having building that were 2-3 stories in height. It made for a somewhat gloomy atmosphere, one which the man wasn't too happy about.

He laughed to himself about it a bit, yes, but he was an undead, who knows how many people would laugh at the thought of an undead who was scared of the dark, and shadow. Well, not that there was anyone here.

The man continyed down the street, eventually he came across a differt street intersecting the one he was currently on.

The intersecting road led to a short but long building that took up at least 3 plots of land that coyld hold an entire house, maybe more. The man wasn't too experienced in telling space very well.

The building certainly caught the man's attention, and he gravitated towards it, intrigued as it was a building that was completely different from others he had seen up until this point.

He walked into the building, and found that along the walls were sets of bunk beds, with chests at the bottom end of the beds. This place, as he had found out, was a barracks.

He looked around the barracks for a while, finding some things here and there. He managed to find a shield, as well as a shoulder pauldrin and a chainmail shirt.

While he had been searching, he had managed to find a door leading into a long corridor, he managed to find a way into the wall!

The man happily walked through the interior of the wall, but quickly grew bored. He had yet to encounter anything after an hour, and was debating turning back.

After another hour the man went to leave and spotted something from the way he was going. A creature, one that was moving.

It wasn't a goblin, he could tell that much. It stood only a bit taller than the man, and wore half plate, leaving parts of it's chainmail underneath visible. It had a helmet on its head, but there was no nose sticking out from the T shaped hole.

The man readied for combat, and was looking at the creature waiting for it to attack. The attack never happened. The creature just kept walking. It walked past, and eventually out of site.

'Strange.... I know that thing wasn't human, but it didn't attack me. I wonder why.' The man thought and then, he dismissed his concern for the creature, he would have to worry about that later, for now he had to find an exit from the wall.

Theoretically, he could just leave from where he came from, but that creature went that way, and he didn't want to find out if it would leave him alone again, besides, he was undead, and time was on his side. He did come to explore after all.

The man shook his head, and continued forwards. He found more and mpre of the strange creatures, none of whom showed any hostility. Eventually he found himself alongside the horde of the creatures.

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As he continued the creatures seemed to only grow more dense in population. Finally he spotted a door to another barracks, and began to push through to it.

Walking in he found a man who was sleeping. He wore a black robe, with red and gold trims, it looked pretty neat, and the remnant found that he could tell what techniques were used in some pieces of the robe. He also saw a staff a few feet away, emvedded with gems of a few different colors, the top was shaped to look almost like a crystaline human heart.

'Wow this guy has got some cool stuff.' The remnant sat there looking at the other man, who was still sleeping. After 10 minutes he decidedly began to look around some more, he was so easily bored.

He found a chest thatbwas filled with books and took one of the top two.

'Necrosis and Rot: Companion to the Necronomicon' 'What an interesting title.', the man thought.

As he read it he found himself struggling a bit, as the book touched on a lot of things he had yet to know about, however he knew that the person on that bed was a necromancer.

It explained a few things for the man, after all, why would undead fight each other? The armored creatures seemed to be undeads, which was why he was not attacked.

'So... what does this mean for me?' The man thought to himself.

[You will not be affected by any necromancy, you were born of the power of life and revival, albeit diluted, this makes you immune to most dark magics]

'Well, that is awfully useful.' The remnant decided to wake up the necromancer.

He at first simply pushed the shoulder of the man, and then he slowly built up to shaking them full force. Why was this man still asleep?!

After about ten minutes of vigorously shaking the sleeping necromancer, he woke up with a start.

"Maya.... Just give me a few more... wait. Who in the hell are you?!" The necromancer had a medium pitch in his voice, not too higj, not too low, but full of anger.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Ne-cro-man-cer." The remnant said accentuating the word necromancer.

The man reached for his staff, and found it gone. Then he looked at the remnant.

"Looking for your staff, eh?" The remnant looked at the necromancer, "I moved it to the other side of the room, wouldn't want to get hit by any nasty dark magics now."

"Who are you? Did the order send you?" The necromancer sat there, defensive, but somewhat resigned.

"That's... a good question. Who am I... I've thought about it a few times, you know?" The remnant said, "As for who sent me.... I guess the system would be it. Although it didn't really send me to you in particular, I just kinda wandered here."

"What? What are you talking about? What the hell do you mean by system?" The necromancer was looking at the remnant with confusion now.

"Well... that is... unimportant." The remnant replied. "Who are you?" The remnant then asked, "I mean, if we're exchanging information after all."

The necromancer bit his lip, probably irritated by this weird man who hadn't yet answered a single question.

"My name is Paul. Paul Hunter. I'm a rogue necromancer, I found this city by chance, and have only been here for around a week." The necromancer, Paul as he had named himself, sighed.

"Huh, strange, you have a name." The remnant nodded a bit, and then he asked a different question to the man, "So why are you here?"

Paul looked at the man, a bit incredulously, and then responded.

"I'm a rogue necromancer, I'm being hunted down by the order, you know, big guys in full plate wielding holy magics."

"The irony isn't lost on me, mr. Hunter. And I'm afraid I don't know. I'm still new here, you see I woke up in the temple up on that mountain, with no memories. So I know nothing about... well anything really." The remnant finally gave a bit of information to Paul.

"What, you have amnesia?" The necromancer squinted at him, "How, if I might ask, did you get past all my undead?"

"Well, I'm also an undead. So..." the remnant trailed off a bit.

"Wait! Wait! Hold on..." Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, "You're... You're telling me.... you. You are a..." Paul gestured at the remnant, "You are undead."

"Yep." The remnant noded to him.

"This is so stupid. Why aren't you affected by my aura of undeath then?" Paul looked at him.

"It's because I was made using life magic, and some of the power of revival, it also makes me immune to most dark magics, as well as making me immune to the influence of necromancy."

"What in the hell?" The man looked the remnant oddly, "I mean that's possible, theoretically, but, only gods have the power of revival."

"Then is the Phoenix a god?" The remnant asked

"What in the hells are you talking about? I don't know what a Phoenix is." The man looked at the remnant again, and again gave him an odd look, "What is your name by the way?"

"Don't got one. Amnesia, remember?" The man chuckled a bit at his own joke.

"Ah, yes. I'd forgotten. Would you like one?" Paul looked at the remnant.

"What do you get out of naming me?" The man looked at Paul somewhat wary.

"Well... for one, it's easier to talk to you if I got something to refer to you by. And also, everyone deserves a name if they can think for themselves. Names also have power, they make someone distinct from all others." Paul explained to him

"Huh. I guess it could be helpful if I find others to talk to." The remant looked at the necromancer.

"I doubt you'll find another person in this city. But yeah, it should help. Hmm. What to name you.... How about...."