“What the—a skeleton? And… it can talk?” someone threw that question which was probably what everyone else was thinking.

“He doesn’t have any vocal cords so probably magic?” another answered.

“That robe he’s wearing looks pretty expensive. Is he the undead spirit of a king?”

Their idle chatter went unheard of as the undead casually strode forward. He then turned around with his arms spread open.

“Oh, forgive me for not introducing myself when I called out to you. I am just a humble merchant looking to satisfy my customers’ desires and tastes. I do not go by the name I had when I was a mortal so feel free to call me whatever you wish.”

“Is this someone you know?” Daraia spoke to Arnold while looking at the undead who was waving at everyone with a boisterous chuckle.

“…I’ve met him a few times before. Why did he appear now of all times?” Arnold approached the merchant, “Since you’re here, you just might have some supplies I need for a ritual. Give me a dozen magic sheets—clean, with no spells recorded on them. Also, I need ingredients to make magic grease—”

The undead held up one finger in front of Arnold’s face, “Surely you need something more than that. Say, something that might simplify the situation?”

If he had a mouth then he would’ve had a sly smile on his face.

“What does he mean by that?”

Arnold ignored Daraia and responded to the merchant:

“And what would that be?”

“Well, I cannot provide any assistance if you do not explain your troubles to me, dear customer. Judging by the four corpses over there and the Womb Sack next to them, it cannot be anything good.”

“Womb sack? What’s that?” someone from the group asked.

“Think of it like the womb of a woman that’s carrying a child. This womb in particular is producing a child on its own through evolution species birth. You don’t normally see these outside the demon world unless…” the undead looked at Arnold, “—a curse is involved.”

Arnold nodded.

“Hohohoho, it seems fate has brought us together even though it despises us so!” he cackled while slapping his knee, “Behold! The remains of an evil god who was trapped within this egg to serve me forever, mwahahahah!”

He took out the same egg that he showed Arnold back then. It smacked its lips and yawned.

“W-What is that?”

“Save thy questions for another time! Allow this one to help his dear customer first!” saying so, he spoke in Godorin to the egg. Arnold couldn’t recognize the phrase but some of the words sounded familiar.

It sounded like a slave mark chant to make others obey you. Did the merchant really trap an evil god inside that egg…? Arnold wanted to believe that he wasn’t the one that did it.

The egg’s face twisted even more as it listened to the merchant before he walked over to the womb sack.

Everyone watched his movements silently. It’s not like they could do anything else. Their lives lay in the hands of two people now so they could only watch them as they worked.

Bloody tears leaked down the evil god’s face as its screech assaulted their eardrums.

“Fallacy against gods! Raaaaa, you should not strive for power you do not deserve! The Soul King must not be granted godhood! Reeeeeeehh!” the egg, despite being so small, had a voice that rivaled that of a titan.

Its bloodied tears, distorted expressions, and unusually powerful voice, made the students step back in fear.

“Agghhhh! Yahhhggg!” it struggled to break free from the undead’s hand, “Kill the criminal! You do not deserve to wield such power! Raahhhhh!”

“Hoh, interesting.” The undead snapped his two fingers, which muted the egg. It continued tussling and shouting but it was now silenced by some kind of magic.

The undead looked at Arnold for a second, “I would like us to discuss something in private, dear customer. Please.”

Arnold nodded before following after him.

No one stopped them.

…

“What can you tell me about the current situation?” Arnold spoke to the undead who had lost his fiery spirit from before, rather a cold air surrounded him now.

“It appears someone or something is trying to use all of your lifeforce for some crime against the gods. What crime it could be, I wouldn’t know without confronting the cause of all this.”

“You can’t identify the curse name or the caster’s reason for wanting to kill us all? I heard the Soul King’s name. How does he fit in all this?”

The egg was meant to identify curses so it was obvious that the Soul King was involved somehow. Cursama was the caster so maybe it had some ambitious goal to make its creator a god?

If so, how? What is the point of cursing them?

Also, what’s the need for lifeforce, how will they get it and how will they use it?

The lights in the undead’s eye sockets vanished as he went “hmm…”

Arnold waited for him to reply. Being hasty wouldn’t help anyone right now. Surely a merchant who travels across worlds might know something to help them in the current situation? Merchants deal not only with goods to sell to others but also valuable information that they can sell to the right buyers in exchange for other information or benefits that involve passage to certain cities and regions, access to black market auctions, rank upgrades in criminal organizations, etc…

The skeleton in front of him was no doubt involved in all sorts of shady dealings that involved information of all kinds. If he were to settle down in Diacree then he would be sought out by Serz to become a Cadre of the organization. No one will let the opportunity to get access to all sorts of secrets, slip away.

“I am at a loss here. The way I see it, there is no correlation between lifeforce, this curse and turning the Soul King into a god, whatever that mysterious method might be that not even the gods know of. I believe we may be able to get more answers if we met the caster. To be able to do that, we need to send you inside the person who caused the curse to spread.”

“The Source…”

"Exactly. Based on the evidence provided by the four corpses, it's clear that the curse has the capability to affect multiple individuals simultaneously. This indicates that it's a group curse, originating from a single source who, intentionally or otherwise, curses those in their vicinity. As the source, you might inadvertently be aiding the caster in committing mass atrocities. To identify the accomplice, we must determine who remains unaffected by the curse, as this would imply friendly fire. Unfortunately, detecting curses isn't straightforward since magic items capable of such detection are rare and prohibitively expensive. In my many years as a merchant, I've only come across three such items, each difficult to procure but easy to sell due to the demand for them. Our approach must involve delving into the mind of the source to track down the caster since we don't have the tools required to simply identify the curse. Casters of spells that require a source are linked to their sources through a mental connection. To penetrate this person's thoughts, you'll need to employ dangerous mind control magic typically reserved for use on criminals to investigate their crimes after confirming that they were involved in said crimes. This invasive procedure is fraught with risks, but it's our best chance of locating and neutralizing the caster, if possible."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“If going inside the person’s head is the goal then what about using dream magic?”

“Oh, dear. While that magic itself is not a threat to an individual’s life, it is heavily looked down upon because it allows you to plant memories inside the target’s head, creating lies and illusions that affect their souls itself. You can even alter their whole personalities in the real world. Don’t tell me, dear customer, are you—” the undead went silent when he looked into Arnold’s eyes, “I see. If survival is your only goal, then the method to achieve that goal is only yours to decide.”

He turned his head to the students and adventurers who were watching them from afar.

“Others might not have faith in this method of yours.”

“In a moment where their lives are in my hands, I doubt they will protest. I’ll come back after confronting Cursama and decide if the ritual will be enough.”

“Hmm, very well.” The undead took out a bundle of scrolls, “Here is the second batch you ordered. The weakest dream magic spell is a Fifth-Rank spell so you will need these mid-tier scrolls.”

“Thanks.” Arnold took the scrolls, putting some away and keeping only one of them in hand, “Do you have any magic grease?”

The undead took out a vial and a paint brush and handed it over to Arnold.

Arnold put everything on a nearby rock and began drawing the formula for the Fifth-Rank spell.

“Oho, you draw with such precision. That is not something I expected from a warrior. Are you a former magician perhaps?”

“If you won’t share your past with me then I have no obligation to share mine with you.”

“Mhm, I suppose that is fair. But it’s still such a shame.”

Arnold ignored him and continued drawing the magic circle from memory.

If this were a normal magic sheet (the inferior kind) then he would’ve needed someone like Lauran or Elora to cast the spell. While it was convenient to have the Virgin’s Blood Ring, he found it troublesome to go find someone just to do one thing for him. it’s not like that someone would even be at the same place he’d usually find them either. Lauran could be back at the Berkley castle or her parents’ home. She could even still be at the academy or God knows where else. He didn’t want to play the guessing game when he couldn’t even see the time limit on his life.

Luckily for him, the ever-resourceful Skeleton Merchant had the right tools needed for him to cast magic without being a magician. If Arnold could get the method to making these types of scrolls, then he would be able to sell them in the empire and possibly make these scrolls gain more popularity than magic sheets. He wasn’t confident that the merchant would simply tell him how he gets these scrolls.

The magic circle on the scroll glowed with a soft, azure light when Arnold finally completed it. As he brought the scroll closer to his face, a delicate lavender scent wafted up, filling his nostrils and giving him a brief moment of calm amidst the tense atmosphere. Arnold then began to softly mutter the incantation needed to activate the spell, his voice steady and precise as he recited the three-verse-long chant.

With the chant completed, he carefully rolled up the scroll and stood up, his movements deliberate and thoughtful. Turning around, he started walking purposefully towards a particular individual, his undead companion following obediently behind him. He approached Anais, who was sitting alone under a large tree, hugging her legs tightly to her chest, a picture of desolation.

"Al?" she called out, looking up at him with a glimmer of hope that quickly faded. Arnold noticed that her usually immaculate nails, always perfectly groomed despite their length, had been bitten down to the quick. Her bright expression was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a look of exhaustion and worry.

"I have a plan, but I’ll need your help, Anais," Arnold said gently, his voice full of determination and a hint of desperation.

Anais remained silent for a moment, her eyes searching his face for reassurance. Upon finding none, she let out a soft sigh.

“…Okay…”

**

Arnold told everyone to gather around him in front of the white tent.

Each of them shared the same expression—fear. It was not only evident on their faces but in their voices as well.

We’re going to be alright. I know it.

I’ll definitely see my fiancé again.

I know Melis won’t let me die a virgin in this fucking dungeon!

I want to go back home and finish the painting of my mother…

None of their voices had any confidence or hope. Their eyes looked distant as if they had already lost everything that was dear to them. Perhaps this was a normal human reaction to knowing you were going to die soon. They had no choice but to rely on one person in this moment.

“I want all of you to save your questions for later. I’m going to use a dream magic spell to make contact with the caster of this powerful curse.”

To avoid coming up with some excuse as to how he knew about the Source (and hide the fact that he’s a player), he said, “The curse will serve as the method to connect me to the caster. The process of selection will be random so I expect your full cooperation once you’re chosen.”

All of them nodded at Arnold’s words. Arthur seemed reluctant to leave his questions for later, evident by his frowning face and slow nod.

Arnold looked at the crowd, his gaze landing on Madilith, “Come here, Madilith.”

“E-Eh?”

“I said, come here.” He said a little louder this time. She hurriedly walked up to him with a blush on her face.

“Why did he call Madi….?” Evelyn looked at Arnold with a narrowed gaze and asked even though he said that it will be a random selection.

“Let’s just listen to him and ask questions later.” Shirley said from beside her.

“Sit.” Arnold pointed at one of the two chairs with a table arranged behind him neatly.

He sat down after her and unfurled the scroll on the table.

Anais timidly lifted her wand and pointed it at Madilith, who merely tilted her head, confused as to what was going on.

“She’s going to use a sleeping magic spell on you. It’s important that we do this to avoid causing any side effects with the dream spell that I’ll use to invade your mind.”

“W-Wait, invade my mind…?” Madilith shrunk in the chair a bit hearing that.

Arnold said calmly, “I told you to save questions for later.”

That’s if there's going to be a later, he forced that thought down the back of his mind.

Madilith obediently nodded but Arnold could see her shoulders trembling a bit.

“Don’t worry. This will all be over soon, Madi.” Anais smiled warmly at her friend.

“Begin.”

Anais then nodded at Arnold’s order before casting the Sleep Magic spell. Madilith’s head fell on the table immediately after the spell took effect.

Arnold chanted the name of the Dream Invasion spell as he put on finger on Madilith’s head.

….

The blinding light only lasted a few seconds before Arnold realized that he was standing on the balcony of a majestic castle, which had a spectacular view of the sprawling city below. White doves soared gracefully overhead, and petals from vibrant roses danced in the gentle breeze as Arnold turned at the sound of a piano serenading the air.

In his line of sight, two figures sat with their backs to him, their faces turned to the piano in front of them. The woman was dressed in a flowing blue gown that draped elegantly over her hourglass form. Her long, obsidian hair cascaded down her back, capturing the faint moonlight that filtered through the marble floors. Beside her, a man of imposing stature sat, dressed in a tuxedo with his vibrant dark blue hair slicked back.

Even though they faced away from him, Arnold could sense the profound connection between them, an aura of deep affection palpable in the air.

The two looked at each other in that moment, their familiar faces stunning Arnold.

The woman smiles at the man as her chin rests on her hand and the other hand massages the man’s thigh.

Arnold could then hear a voice, one that sounded just like him, sing.

I see you listening, our eyes meeting, and I sense a profound connection.

The piano's keys beneath my fingertips allow me to express everything I cannot articulate aloud.

Each chord becomes a promise, every note a manifestation of my love.

I smile, acknowledging your presence beside me, sharing this moment and this melody.

Through my voice and the piano, we weave a symphony of our emotions, filling the world you've created with our love.

In this song, I discover a pathway to convey how much you mean to me, the depth of my emotions laid bare.

Through this music, I hope my soul can reach out to you, knowing that if it does, in this very instant, our hearts are truly united as one.

The ambiance was serene yet charged with the outspoken language of love and devotion, and underneath all that was a predatory desire of man and woman. In this quiet sanctuary, their shared passion for music and each other’s body and soul created a peaceful harmony that resonated beyond the confines of this seemingly small fictional world.

So, this is Madilith’s perfect world.