Cities were a bright shining beacon of hope. A symbol of defiance and resilience. Proof that Humanity could survive against the hordes of Monsters. Children were taught that they would be safe within city walls. They were raised to believe the best of cities.
So, Alaster was quite surprised to find out that every city had a warehouse or similar storage facility where they kept the corpses of nearly every Expert. Even those that lived in the city. If no one claimed them, the body would be taken and stored. And the city would be all too glad to accept donations, which surprisingly, weren’t too rare.
Similar to how Monster corpses were used in numerous ways, the corpses of Experts were just as valuable, or even more so depending on the purpose.
It did not surprise Alaster that they didn’t publicize the existence of the storage. For most, the thought of dozens of corpses being Magically preserved just down the block, was disturbing. Of course, after the siege, the usual dozen or so that were kept in storage had skyrocketed to nearly a hundred.
The storage was actually underground in the Military district. It was below a warehouse storing various gear meant to outfit the Soldiers. The entrance casually blended into the floor. Not hidden, but certainly not obvious. The doors themselves were ordinary wood and quite wide.
The servant, that the City Lord had tasked with guiding Alaster, opened the doors and bowed deeply, stepping back. The doors opened to reveal a gentle slope into the ground. A slope that had signs of recent activity, and plenty of it.
Alaster walked down, roughly four meters deep before he was faced with a small desk, in front and to the side of another set of doors. Sitting at the desk was a fairly average man. Neither too large, nor too small. Not ugly, not handsome. Alaster could not find a single characteristic that stood out and doubted he would remember the man's face upon leaving.
In fact, the only thing that was different, was that the man was reading a book at the desk. Normally, people given such tasks would occupy themselves with cards, drinking, sleeping, etc. But this man seemed to prefer reading, that or he usually slept, but had just woken up from his nap. Who was to say?
Alaster walked up to the desk, his armored footsteps making light scraping noises against the stone. The man looked up from his book with a hint of annoyance that was masterfully concealed by years of experience.
“Greeting sir, what may I do for you today?”
“I’m here to collect the corpses of the dozen Experts?”
“Apologies sir, but you will have to be more specific. Once the battle ended, we gathered several dozen Experts. And you will need the proper authorization.” The man returned to his book, apparently thinking the conversation was done.
It was.
Alaster did not have the patience required to deal with the foolish. If he tried to do so, he would likely end up killing the moron.
Ignoring the man’s cries of protest, Alaster walked through the doors. They were locked, both with mundane mechanisms and enchantments. But simply flooded the enchantments with Necrotic Mana. Necrotic Mana was well suited to eating Magic as well as it did flesh. And very few mundane locks could withstand Expert strength.
The door might as well have been open. It did not provide even a moment of resistance. The man attempted to block Alaster's path, but an Iron Guardian appeared before him, casually shoving him aside, clearing the way for Alaster without breaking stride.
The Corpse Storage was fairly small, but well organized. The bodies were stacked three high on well-maintained metal shelves. Each one was wrapped in white sheets that had papers quickly sewn onto them. There were six rows of shelves that stretched to the far wall, perhaps a hundred feet away. The ceiling was curved, removing the need for support.
Alaster did not see any obvious distinction between Tarian and Onigarian bodies. He was quite impressed with the level of respect each of the bodies had apparently been treated with.
Each one had their injuries masterfully sewn back together. The papers detailed their affiliation, date of and manner of death. They also wrote down the Expert's name, if it was known. At the bottom, in different handwriting, someone had written down a surprisingly detailed description of the body’s Class and Abilities.
Alaster doubted that the Abilities and Classes were exact, but it was still quite detailed. It was very difficult to determine the Status when someone was alive. Only unique and special Abilities could do it, and usually quite crudely. It became much easier after death, but it was never perfectly accurate. All the stats were within certain ranges.
The singular Iron Guardian kept the attendant out of the room while Alaster closely examined each body. Being so in tune with death as he was a pure Expert of Necrotic Mana, he was able to quickly sort through the various corpses until he found the ones he wanted.
They weren’t in any special place, but they were all together. Of course, if [Rebirth] worked how Alaster was hoping it would, he would want all the corpses. Though he did not want to strain the relationship he had with the City Lord, even if most of them were his by right.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Belgroth and Sedall had been teaching him the numerous uses the Bodies of Experts had. A single one was potentially worth enough for a well-off family for a year.
Of course, Onigas would not just leave such a fortune unguarded. Despite the rather weak defenses, the idea was more of a honey trap. Easy to get in, difficult to leave.
As it was, Alaster could faintly sense several strong people approaching. It was a very faint sense, but his practice with the Mana Streams was already showing benefits, besides the Minions.
Summoning a dozen Undead Workers, Alaster had them throw the desired bodies over their shoulders and follow him.
The attendant had quieted down, but now had a cruel grin on his face that Alaster had to restrain himself not to crater.
Ignoring the irritating little man, Alaster headed for the stairs. Alaster opened the doors and was greeted by a blast of Lightning Magic, which was casually deflected to the side by a hand coated in condensed Necrotic Mana.
“Identify yourself!” Ordered a man in robes, the source of the blast.
Across from the entrance to the Body Storage, four Mages and ten Warriors were prepared to engage against the intruder.
Alaster took a moment to examine the threat and did not find one.
Upon his order, the Shadow Assassins stood out of the shadows behind the Mages, each as if a puppeteer was taking them out of his bag. They grabbed the Mages’ arms, pinning them behind their back and held their daggers to their throats.
“Is that any way to treat the person who saved our great city?” A magnanimous voice proclaimed.
It was a voice Alaster had only encountered once before, but it was an irritating one. Irritation that was compounded by the irritation of someone Alaster held close.
Arthur Lewale walked down the deserted street without a care in the world for the bloodbath that was about to begin. Then again, very few would give a care when they had six Experts protecting them. They walked behind him, equipped in heavy armor with large shields and broadswords.
Holy Magic was rare, not exceedingly, but enough to make note. Those who can use it are rare, but those that can master it are as rare as finding a diamond in a dung heap. And yet, each of Arthur’s bodyguards were just such diamonds.
Alaster could practically smell the Golden Mana wafting off of them, permeating the air around them. Strangely enough, under the effect of [Death Embrace] Alaster’s sense of smell should have been muted, yet the stench coming off those Paladins was almost eye watering, if Alaster had eyes.
‘It’s because you are using Embrace that it is more potent. Its Holy Magic.’ Sedall said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
And perhaps it was.
Regardless, Alaster disliked the pompous brat even more so. Though he also found it amusing. He did not have the Bodyguards previously, and their equipment, also enchanted with Holy Magic, was brand new. Arthur was desperate to get on Alaster’s good side or protect himself against him.
“Go away Lewale, I have neither the patience, nor the care to entertain you.” Alaster waved away.
The Warriors didn’t know how to react. On one hand, they were meant to defend the Corpse Storage against thieves, but on the other hand, the man before them was the hero of the city. An extremely lethal one, as proof of the four dagger points digging into the Mages’ throats.
They looked back and forth between the influential Noble's son and the hero, who certainly did not look like any hero from the stories.
The strange stalemate ended when a high-ranking officer rushed over with another ten Warriors, likely as potential reinforcements. The red sash across his chest told Alaster that the officer was somewhere in the middle of the hierarchy, or perhaps the lower end of the higher ups. Slate did not know. Nor did he care.
The man stopped short, expecting either a fight, or the intruder already dead or in chains. He certainly did not expect to see his men with daggers to four of their throats, Nobility, and what looked like a villain from some children's story.
“What is going on here?” he demanded.
One of the braver Warriors stepped forward and saluted with his clenched sword against his breastplate. Not quite letting Alaster out of his sight.
“Sir, this man here broke into the Body Storage and before we could engage, young Lord Lewale claimed the man to be the savior of the city.”
The officer looked around once more.
“What the young Lord claims is correct. This is Sir Alaster. You are dismissed.”
To the Warrior's credit, he did not hesitate.
He saluted once more, and after the Shadows released the mages, vanishing into the shadows once more, all of them left, marching down the road.
The officer turned to his own men and waved them away, which they took as a dismissal. They marched back up the road from where they came, leaving just the officer, Arthur, and Alaster.
The officer looked at Arthur sideways, “What are you still doing here? This is a City Civil issue; Aristocrats have no jurisdiction here. Go away.”
“Oh, but I have something to discuss with Sir Alaster here.” Arthur proudly declared with a wide smile.
“And yet I have nothing to discuss with you.”
Arthur's smile faltered, but remained, somehow.
“Then I shaft remain to annoy you. Farewell Sir Alaster. I do wish we can’t talk soon.”
‘Too late.’ Alaster thought to himself as Arthur turned around with his repulsive guards.
Only after Arthur left eyesight did Alaster turn towards the officer.
“You are lucky I knew what you looked like.” The officer sighed.
“Or they are. I am collecting my property.”
“Yes, but there are procedures, regulations, permits.”
“And if I had the time, or the patience for either, I would have done so. Good day.”
Without waiting for the officer's reply, Alaster walked away, leading the Undead workers carrying the bodies and reared by the Iron Guardian.
The officer could only sigh to himself before walking down the stairs and explaining the situation to the attendant.
Alaster walked for a while before he stopped in an alley and quickly constructed a crude cart out of bone. It truly was crude. Bone rubbing against bone. It was loud and would have certainly been uncomfortable. But as Alaster made the cart, he had his second and third mind rebuild his Skeletal Stallion using the Blueprint function.
The workers piled the bodies into the cart, careful not to actually damage them, and disappeared, leaving only four Workers remaining. Two pulled from the front while two pushed from the back. Luckily, the Undead Workers spawned in clothes, little more than rags. Alaster then just draped some nearby discarded cloth over their skulls.
Alaster doubted the citizens would enjoy seeing the walking dead hauling carts of bodies.
Leaving the alley, Alaster rode through the streets calmly. Soon, he would raise the Corpses of the Experts as his own Minions. And once he did, there was no telling how powerful he could become.