The first thing that stood out to me as I observed my surroundings was the strange architecture that seemed prevalent in the village. It was like each building had been purposely designed to look as strange as possible, as if its creator was spiting the normal way to build houses.

Each building had some strange quirk, for example. One townhouse had an extra front door three meters up, without any actual way to use it. Another was thin and stilted, it looked like it could fall over any second, yet it somehow held on. Many other buildings were placed at strange angles and looked disjointed, too, in a way that reminded me of the chimeric goblins I had encountered a few weeks ago. They looked strange for the sake of being strange.

Despite this strange look, the village was oddly lively. A few dozen residents were going about their business. A shopkeeper was selling some strange white fruits to a young couple, while an aged spellcaster watched the day’s happenings from behind a window in his home, sipping at a cup of unknown liquid.

Each of the villagers had their own visual quirks, too. One person’s arm seemed to be rotting, to the point that bone was visible, and yet, no one seemed to mind. Even as the old lady picked up a box and moved it, her rotting arm held up.

It wasn’t just her that showed these... morbid signs of a dark affinity. Somehow, all these people were immune to the weather effects of the land. That meant that every last one of them had a dark affinity. Whether they had been born here or migrated here after being exiled was as of yet unknown to me, but I was curious to find out.

Even more strangely, the residents weren’t paying me or Revan any mind as we sauntered through the town. We got a few looks, but they seemed to be curious looks rather than vigilant ones. The villagers were looking at me the way normal villagers would stare at a traveler passing through their sleepy farmstead.

Perhaps they had grown used to undead after living here for who knows how long.

In an attempt to get to know the locals, I decided to buy some of the white fruit on display in the local shop. The shop’s owner had set up a little stall outside of his colourful and chaotic building, where he seemed to be praising the day’s harvest to any that would listen. When I got a little closer, I became her next target.

“You there, stranger! Care for a randy apple? Got a fresh batch right here, harvested just yesterday at our local orchard! Quality and taste guaranteed!”

I jumped down from Revan’s skull, which was far too large to approach the stall, and picked up one of the fruits to test its weight. The white fruit had the shape of a pear, though its upper part was thicker than that of your average pear. It had a pale white colour, and showed no obvious similarities to apples.

“Let me welcome you to apart village, one of the best on this side of the between lands, if you’ll forgive my boast.” The shopkeeper began enthousiastically.

“Are these fruits common here?” I asked, making my voice sound as old and rough as I could.

“Well of course they are! Have you ever heard of a village on the outskirts that doesn’t have these, city boy?”

I grunted in acknowledgment in an attempt to mask my surprise. There were more villages like this? A city, even? Or was she referring to the cities outside of the borders?

“Haven’t been to the outskirts much.” I added.

“Well, you’ve been missing out! These here fruits are the pride of little sleepy villages like ours! Just three copper pieces per fruit, a better bargain you won’t find on this side of Necropolis!”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Right...” I grumbled, handing her a dozen coppers and storing three of the fresh fruits, whilst chowing down on one of them. It tasted strangely like apples...

A few minutes later, I found myself in front of the sole building that acted as an inn in this village. It wasn’t much better than an average wooden shack, actually, though its stone foundations spoke of at least some luxury.

I unsummoned Revan before heading inside, where I found an older man cleaning and scrubbing some glasses with a rag. He was wearing some old long johns and looked to be an average barman, except for one thing. He had no head to speak of.

Since I couldn’t find anyone else nearby, I hesitantly approached the headless body that was, nonetheless, still moving.

“Uh... can I get a room for the night?”

The headless body straightened up a bit as it heard my voice.

“Guueu goeargrl.” It replied.

“What was that?” I asked instinctively, as if I would understand its gurgle after hearing it a second time.

“Guueu goeargrl.” It repeated patiently. I stood there and watched for a few seconds as it continued to clean, having no idea what to do next. Thankfully, someone entered the bar at that very moment. The man that just entered through the front door looked like a homeless person. Unshaven stubble and greasy hair, he was the type that every person would avoid when encountering him on the street. Something about his crooked grin was oddly welcoming, though.

“Oho! Are you the city dweller I’ve been hearin’ so much about? Nice to meet’ya, the name’s Harold.” He said, as he briskly walked up to me, took my hand unprompted and vigorously started to shake it.

“Komtor.” I replied gruffly. The less I spoke, the easier it would be to mask my voice.

“Komtor? Strange name... Were you trying to talk to ol’ keepie here? He’s not much for conversation, though... Just give him a silver and he’ll let you stay for a week. It’s a copper for a meal, by the way. Ya’ never know what ol’ keepster will put on the plate, though... He served bambolubber pus as a side dish, once...”

Harold continued to prattle on about this and that for a while longer, though none of it was of import. We both ordered some food from the innkeeper, who served as a strange type of meat that reminded me of beef. It was actually quite tasty, though I had no idea what I was actually eating.

“So Komtor... what brings you all the way out here? I figured Necropolis had everything a budding classer might need... You city folk never seem to leave the damn place, after all...” he asked, as his warm smile turned cold.

I almost recoiled at his sudden shift in attitude, since I hadn’t expected it.

“Just passing through.”

“Passing through to where?” he pushed, which made me a little irate.

“None of your business, is it.” I replied stoically after composing myself. I would rather run from the village with my tail between my legs than share my goal with this shifty stranger.

Surprisingly, my response only emboldened Harold.

“Ah well, ya’ see, everything around here is my business. I’m the village head, after all. I know who everyone is, what they eat, where they shit... This is my village, pal. And now that you’re in it...” he whispered threateningly, slowly making the situation tenser and tenser, until...

“I just want to get to know you!” he spoke suddenly, the welcoming smile from before reappearing on his face, as if he had never once threatened me. Though he had changed his act, I remained completely unconvinced. Now that this old sod had pushed it this far, I couldn’t let him live. Otherwise, he’d just have me followed the next day and the dungeon might be endangered.

Having made up my mind, I stood up abruptly and knocked the table we were sitting at out of the way. The old creaky piece of furniture flew across the room and sent some other chairs skidding away. I drew my sword and held it at Harold’s throat, before I unleashed some overloaded mana around me to pressure him.

“Should I just kill you, ant?!” I bluffed. My weak mana sense told me that this man was either tier 4 or below, which meant that for all I knew, he could be a great deal stronger than me. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case, because he cowered under my threat and held up his hands placatingly with a nervous smile on his face.

“Hihihi! Wait, wait! You’ve made your point, all right! I won’t ask anymore!” I pushed my sword a little closer and drew blood. “Hold on, man! I work for the dry man, okay! Don’t do anything we’ll both regret kid.”

The dry man? Who the fuck was that?

“We both work for people, fool. All you need to know is that whatever I am here for is of no concern to your boss.” I replied, continuing my bluff, before sheathing my sword again. Harold jumped backward to safety and left the inn, while the innkeeper started to wipe up the floor I had spilled.

“Sorry about that, innkeeper. Here.” I spoke, as I handed him some silver coins for his trouble.

With that little spat over, I could finally tuck in for the night... But it wasn’t meant to be. Just when I was about to head up the creaky wooden stairs to my room for the night, I heard a loud voice coming from outside.

“Come out, you fucking rat! I’ve got you surrounded!”

Shit. It seemed Harold was calling my bluff. At least this gave me an excuse to tie up loose ends...