Gerald knew he was dying—in fact, he was staring death right in the face.

"Just give me a moment, Gerald," Death said in a chilling voice as his flickering eyes of purple flames danced in the darkness before glancing away.

How does the Skeleton Mage know my name? Gerald thought in horror. Xen was nowhere to be seen, having likely run away from the floor boss, who shouldn't even be here. I can hardly blame him. Skeleton Mages are usually found on the second floor, yet this one had roamed up to the first floor and even enslaved a whole legion of Skeleton Warriors to defend it. Such a threat would need a well-rounded hunting party to deal with.

In the dim lighting, all he could see was a cloaked shadow rising from a pile of ivory bones, followed by scraping on stone as the monster shifted toward him. Gerald held his breath as the looming darkness strode closer... before slipping on some blood and falling flat on its face.

There was a brief awkward silence as they looked at one another before the undead began ranting while punching the stone.

"Curse this dungeon for its smooth floor and curse all creatures that think having two legs is a good idea," the undead lamented as it pushed itself back to its feet like a middle-aged man on an ice rink, "No wonder the undead looked so awkward as they walked. This form has a terrible design, like a stack of rocks held together by a thread of string."

Gerald had heard of talking undead capable of complex thought. But they were usually liches, which were A-grade or higher monsters. If a lich was truly in this dungeon, it would be an international incident.

So, assuming it's not a lich, could that be Xen? It felt like a long shot, but he was dead either way. The corruption had spread too deep as he had no mana left to suppress its advance.

"Xen, is that you?" Gerald called out.

The undead stared at him, "Who the hell else would it be—" They fell backward after stepping on their cloak, which was now too short, and dragged onto the floor.

"Why are you an undead now?"

He was answered by a slight grunt followed by more scraping as the undead began clawing across the ground toward him. "Because... I am a shapeshifter. I take on the form of those I devour."

"Oh, I thought you were a monster that could only shift between man and wolf," Gerald said. "A true shapeshifter is far rarer and deadlier."

Xen used the nearby wall to balance himself, and then he stared down at him. "Are you dying?"

Gerald glanced down at the rotting hole in his chest, "Um yeah, very much so." He could see his own beating heart, and it was slowly turning a dark green. His lungs were half functioning, and even his ribcage had disintegrated. The corruption debuff was not usually fatal to mages as it could be fought off with mana. But he could only rot to death in his current mana-deprived state without potions. Gerald tried to see the funnier side of his sad fate and grinned at the undead, "But somehow, I'm less dead than you!"

Xen tilted his head, "Well yeah. I'm an undead, and you are still alive, so that makes sense."

Gerald clicked his tongue and stared up at the ceiling. "Did you inherit an undead's sense of humor too?"

"Probably," Xen admitted, "I acquire some instincts of whatever form I take."

"That's actually quite interesting..." Gerald's voice trailed off and dropped to a whisper, "Say, Xen, what does it feel like to be dead?"

Gerald didn't want to face the facts, but he was lying on his deathbed. He never got to see all that money he saved away for retirement or the light at the end of the rat race. He worked in a dead-end job like a fool, slaving away for the promise of a better tomorrow only to let his greed lead to his demise.

Xen hummed in thought, "Well, out of every form I've taken thus far, this is the closest to my true self."

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

"How so?"

"It encourages my hunger by giving me a burning hatred for the living."

"Oh..." Gerald looked at his hands and noticed his vision starting to blur again as his consciousness began to shut down, "So you hate me right now?"

"No."

There was a pause.

"I never liked you to begin with, as I'm yet to really understand what that emotion even entails. I found you useful, though, and enjoyed our short time together."

Despite the relatively positive ending to Xen's words, it was delivered in such a cold, monotone voice that Gerald couldn't help but shiver. I suppose that's the best I could expect from a monster that wears another person's skin.

"Now, is there anything I can do to save you?"

Gerald's eyes widened at the offer but then dimmed as he remembered his reality. "If you manage to level me up within the next few minutes, I might have a chance," Gerald's head rolled to the side as the right side of his body suddenly went numb, "But I know that's impossible as there are no monsters around and I can't even lift my arm to contribute a meaningful amount to get the experience."

"I guess this is goodbye then," Xen said coldly.

"Ha... I guess it is." Gerald couldn't believe his last moments would be spent in some dark corner of a beginner dungeon, all alone except for a talking skeleton surrounded by bones.

It was quite sad, really.

Gerald didn't know what compelled him, but an intense desire to leave something behind to be remembered by—even for a little while became overwhelming.

"Wait," Gerald wheezed, maneuvering his barely responding left arm to fish into his pack and withdraw his wallet and keys. Holding up the offering toward the undead, he insisted, "Take these for me."

Xen took them in his black skeletal hand, which was cold to the touch. "What are these human items?"

"The leather wallet contains several credit cards which can be used to access my measly life savings. The password for them is 1289. The other thing is a key to my apartment, number 89, in the East Block housing estate." Gerald didn't know what insanity possessed him to hand over such possessions and knowledge to a shapeshifter, but there was one good reason.

"Why are you giving these to me?" Xen seemed confused, "I don't need this apartment or credit cards."

"If you want to live in the outside world, you will. No guild would let you join without an address," Gerald paused to catch his breath, "Though I admit... I actually gave you these for a selfish reason."

Xen stepped back, and Gerald saw mana flicker between his bones under the robe. He is still wary of me. I guess that's why he's the one alive, and I'm the fool rotting on the floor.

Gerald gulped, "Don't worry. It's just that I have an old pet cat called Charlie. I left out plenty of food for him while I was gone, but I doubt he'll survive on his own forever. Do you think you could take care of him—and don't eat him," he quickly added.

"So I have to look after your enslaved creature, and in return, you give me these... things?" Xen didn't seem impressed as he dropped the gifted wallet and keys into the bloodied cloak's pocket. "Okay, human, I accept your offer. If I step foot on the surface in the near future, I will find this Charlie creature and feed it."

"Um... thanks." Gerald bit his lip in worry at how terrible of an idea this was. To give a shapeshifter a route into society...

Charlie is getting old now, yet he can still look after himself. Those bastards at the Iron Legion guild deserve whatever doom is about to befall the human race. Actually, fuck it. They all do to an extent. My boss, who made my life hell; my neighbor, who would play music so loud my walls shook; and bastard Ronnie who let his dog shit outside my door every day. Fuck them all.

Deciding to go all in, he dove back into the pack and retrieved his Hunter Badge. The shining piece of metal was engraved with the letter 'E,' meaning he was an Uncommon Grade Hunter. A rank held by anyone who had gone on one or two dungeon dives, so it was hardly anything special.

"You should also take this." Gerald dropped the badge on the stone with a clink, "It's a Hunter's badge. Use it to get into the Iron Legion, and if you see those bastards that let me die down here, can you devour them for me?"

Xen's hollow laughter filled the dungeon as he shifted over to pick up the badge. Holding the shiny metal between his skinless fingers, Gerald could have sworn the undead was grinning. "Oh, don't you worry, Gerald. It won't just be them."

"Then I can rest in peace knowing it's in your capable hands," Gerald leaned back and felt his consciousness fading and the gnawing pain rising. It felt weird to feel so... content as he faced death. This was the end of his story, and he was weirdly okay with it. A shit run it had been, but that's life.

As he faded into eternal sleep, he felt a sudden flash of light and a spark before everything went black.

----------------------------------------

Xen pulled away his skeletal finger from Gerald's forehead as the crackling golden mana of Holy Smite dispersed.

You have killed an opponent.

Experience split between [Mind Slime] and [Undead Mage] form.

[Mind Slime] has leveled up: 8 -> 9.

[Undead Mage] has leveled up: 1 -> 3.

As touching as the farewell was, he wouldn't let a bag of exp die as he watched.

"Sorry, Gerald," Xen put his hand on his head. "But I still have some unanswered questions..."

[Use Devour on Human Brain?]