Yeoman was fascinated. His body had been separated by the jaws of a fat bear, yet because he had turned into a zombie, the two halves could become one. Green tendrils, like young sprouts popping out of the ground, grew out of his lower and upper halves, twining around one another. They wriggled and twisted, and upon locking with each other, more tendrils grew out of his rotting flesh until there was a jagged green band separating his torso from his legs. It looked like—

Poke, poke.

Yeoman swatted the stick away. The vulture squawked as if it were laughing and poked Yeoman again. The other vultures around him cawed and squawked. If a group of birds were drunk in a bar, Yeoman imagined this was how they would sound like. The vultures were fascinated by him. He smelled like the food they usually ate, carrion, but he could still move. Yeoman understood why they were bugging him. If his well-done steak suddenly got off his plate and walked away, he’d tell everyone in the restaurant to take a look. Maybe he’d poke it with a stick like the vulture was doing to him.

Despite the zombie fungus reattaching Yeoman’s lower body, he still couldn’t move it. However, he could feel something slithering down his back. It was an odd sensation. He didn’t feel pain anymore, and by all rights, he should’ve been in a lot of pain. His skin was patchy, exposing the flesh underneath, the red muscles dotted with green circular mounds. The bear’s stomach acid did a lot of external damage but hadn’t seriously harmed him. Just looking at the injuries he had sustained made Yeoman feel itchy, but he didn’t need to scratch. There was only one sensation he could feel—temperature. The exposed bits of his muscles were warm, and everything else was cold. Even the feeling slithering down his back and into his legs was slightly warm. He had a feeling he’d be able to walk again once the warmth reached his toes, but it was taking a while.

Yeoman frowned and looked at the dead bear behind him. Dozens of vultures were standing on top of it, feasting. The bear shouldn’t become infected, right? The name of the gene he had used specifically stated the fungus was targeted at humans. Yeoman sighed and nudged away another stick. Now that he was a zombie, his life was going to change drastically. If he went to work, he’d infect someone. If he went to the warehouse to train, he’d infect someone. Unless he wore a hazmat suit all the time, he’d have to limit his human interaction. Was that kind of life really worth the few thousand points he’d get for surviving? Maybe it would’ve been better for him to die without struggling.

Yeoman shook his head. What was done was done. Warmth flooded his toes, and Yeoman stretched his legs. They could move again. Yeoman climbed to his feet and stood with his legs apart. He took in a deep breath, despite not needing to, and took a step while chopping out with his arm. Moving felt a little awkward, but as he performed more and more of his kata, his movements flowed more fluidly. It was strange. He hadn’t really lost his sense of touch; it was replaced by a sense of temperature. Instead of feeling the grass underneath his feet, there were cold sensations tickling his soles. However, the human brain was great at adapting, especially after being optimized. Yeoman sped up his kata, his arms and legs moving faster and faster, the sounds of wind rushing with every movement of his limbs.

The vultures had backed away, flew into trees, staring at him. Yeoman dashed towards one that was still on the ground. It flew up but not fast enough. Like a lion, Yeoman pounced, snatching the vulture when it was barely off the ground. The rest of the vultures scattered, and Yeoman ignored them, focusing on the bird in his hands. He grabbed the vulture’s body and its head, pulling them apart. There was a series of snapping sounds, and the vulture’s head came off, accompanied by a spurt of blood. Yeoman inhaled the scent, his body shivering. He didn’t feel any disgust; rather, his stomach began growling. He bit down on the vulture’s head, cracking its skull with his teeth.

“Oh my god.”

Yeoman swallowed and turned his head to the side. There was a shirtless man staring at him, and behind that man, there was a wolf with a human’s body. Yeoman’s brow furrowed. Perhaps it was a human with a wolf’s head, arms, and legs. Either way, Yeoman knew who they were. The shirtless man with the spear should’ve been Lan Ravenwood, a prince who was hunting down Lucia. The wolfman was the prince’s spear spirit, Gae Bulg. In the original plot, Lucia couldn’t defeat them without activating her Unrelenting Path of Slaughter. Yeoman couldn’t even defeat Lucia; there was no way he was a match for this prince. Yeoman coughed and lowered his arms, dropping the vulture onto the ground. How was he supposed to react in a situation like this?

“Gae,” Lan said, not taking his eyes off of Yeoman. “Is this a spirit beast?”

The wolfman sniffed the air. “He doesn’t smell like any beast I’ve ever met. He might be the slave of a demon. Some of them do unthinkable experiments on humans.” Gae Bulg gripped his spear and approached Yeoman. “Who are you?”

Yeoman furrowed his brow and opened his mouth. It was a bit bloody. Yeoman pointed inside and shook his head.

“His tongue was cut out,” Gae Bulg said. “He was probably left here to die.”

“Leave him,” Lan said, making a face as he inspected Yeoman’s wounds.

Gae Bulg nodded, and he stepped away from Yeoman, returning to Lan’s side. “The smell on this man’s body is too strong. I can’t tell which way Durandal went.”

Lan raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze onto Yeoman. “Have you seen an iron sword with purple markings on it? Don’t lie to me.”

Yeoman wasn’t sure if he should lie or not. If he lied, the prince might kill him if he figured it out. However, if Yeoman told the truth, how was he going to explain that he didn’t know which way Durandal went? Yeoman exhaled through his nose before making up his mind. He nodded twice.

“Who owned it? Where did you last see them?”

Yeoman gestured with his hands, trying to describe Lucia’s figure by drawing it in the air. Of course, it wasn’t helpful.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Lan frowned and put his hand up. “Stop. I don’t understand what you’re saying. Do you know how to write?”

Yeoman hesitated. He did know how to write, but he wasn’t sure if Lan would understand English. Virlyce never really specified what language was used in A Godking’s Legacy. However, seeing as there weren’t any problems with him being unable to understand Lucia and Lan, Yeoman nodded.

“Excellent. As expected of a demon’s slave,” Lan said. He pointed at the dead vulture. “Use its blood to write on the ground. Tell me everything you know about the owner of the sword.”

Yeoman picked up the vulture and found a relatively clear patch of land. He had never written anything with a dead vulture before, but he found it oddly similar to cleaning his car with a sponge. How would he describe Lucia? Beastkin. Female. Brown hair. White dress. After writing down the short descriptions, he found he took up a lot of space. Lan came over, and something inside of Yeoman twitched. Saliva pooled inside of his mouth, and he had to tilt his head back to swallow.

“A female beastkin?” Lan muttered, rubbing his chin while reading the words Yeoman had scrawled. He turned towards the wolfman. “My brother didn’t travel with beastkin. If anything, he only used them as slaves.” He turned back towards Yeoman. “Are you sure this is right?”

Yeoman was stunned by the prince’s smell. His stomach gurgled. The prince smelled like freshly cooked bacon still dripping with fat, layered with butter and salt. Yeoman swallowed again.

“Hey. Are you alright?”

Yeoman came back to his senses. He blinked twice before exhaling, expunging the prince’s scent from his nostrils. He didn’t have to breathe, so he stopped using his nose to prevent himself from smelling the delicious man. Yeoman nodded and pointed at the ground, indicating for the prince to read the words again. The prince bent his head down, and the muscles on his trapezius rippled. Yeoman’s stomach growled even louder. He could easily imagine how tough those muscles would be to chew, how satisfying it’d be to bite through them bit by bit. One more sniff couldn’t hurt. Yeoman inhaled deeply, and all his reasoning went out the window. Well, all his reasoning unrelated to eating the prince.

Yeoman dipped his finger into the vulture’s corpse and wrote on his left bicep. He waved at Lan to come over, gesturing at the words he had just written. The prince held his breath and approached Yeoman, and Yeoman extended his arm.

“The beastkin is accompanied by….” Lan frowned and pointed at an illegible word on Yeoman’s arm. “What does that say?”

Yeoman bent his arm and dipped his finger into the vulture again. His left arm was extended in front of Lan’s face, holding the vulture. His right arm was writing on his left. The prince was close, very close. Yeoman raised his foot. The prince’s eyes shifted downwards. Yeoman moved his raised leg and scratched his other leg with his toes. The prince’s eyes shifted back. Yeoman stomped down, crushing Lan’s foot with his. Before the prince’s scream even left his mouth, Yeoman seized the prince’s biceps, digging his rotting fingers deep into the Lan’s skin, holding him in place. Yeoman slammed his head against Lan’s, dazing the poor man, before biting Lan’s neck. Yeoman chomped down, sinking his teeth into the flesh until his lower and upper teeth were practically touching; then, he jerked his head back, ripping a portion of flesh out of the prince.

“Lan!”

A spear flashed, and Yeoman’s hands were severed. The prince was yanked away, and a spearhead stabbed into Yeoman’s chest, piercing his heart. Gae Bulg retracted his spear, taking Yeoman’s heart with it. The wolfman dropped the spear and rushed to Lan’s side. “Lan!”

Blood was gushing out of the prince’s neck despite the wolfman’s best attempts at staunching it with his hands. Yeoman had torn an artery. Gae Bulg was a weapon spirit; he didn’t have attainments in anything other than fighting. “Lan. You can’t die. Stay with me.”

The prince gurgled as he gasped. He raised his hand and placed it on Gae’s. It was tough, but Lan managed to say one word, “Sorry,” before the light went out of his eyes. Gae Bulg trembled, his massive body shaking. He raised his head, pointing his snout towards the sky. While clutching Lan’s hand, he let out a mournful howl. It lasted for two minutes, and when it ended, there was a shattering sound. Lines appeared on the wolfman’s body as if he were an image in a broken mirror. A breeze blew past, and Gae’s body turned to dust, swept away by the wind. A cracking sound came out of the spear by Lan’s side, and pieces of a broken glass sphere fell out of it.

Yeoman sat up. Heart? He didn’t need that to live. He crouched down by his severed hands and placed his jagged forearm stumps against them. It took a few minutes for his arms to become whole once more. The only sign of his arms having fallen off were the green bands snaking around his skin. He went over to his heart and picked it up. The spear that had impaled it had disappeared with the wolfman. Yeoman stuffed his heart back inside his chest, not too particularly worried about how it was oriented. He stepped over to Lan’s corpse. The vultures would be there soon; Yeoman had to take the best parts.

Time blurred past. Yeoman leaned back, staring at his hands. After he had eaten his fill, he came back to his senses. What had he done? Yeoman sat by Lan’s half-eaten corpse, stunned.

Poke, poke.

Yeoman flinched and turned his head. A vulture squawked and flew away, dropping the stick it had poked Yeoman with. Yeoman exhaled through his nose and stared at Lan. The body was patchy: bits of blood here, flecks of flesh there, skin and bones sticking out everywhere. The worst part was Yeoman didn’t even feel sick. In fact, his body felt great, full of energy. Right now, he was in peak condition, and it was hard for his mood to not be influenced by that. Yeoman sighed. What was done was done. Lan was already dead. It was time to loot the mini-boss.

[Obtained Ravenwood Ring (Rare)]

[Ravenwood Ring (Rare): The Ravenwood emperor ordered the finest craftsmen to create a set of rings to protect his children. This ring allows the user to cast Teleport once a week. Shares a cooldown with other magic tools.]

[Teleport: Teleports the user to the visualized location.]

[Obtained Gae Bulg’s Broken Spirit Seed (Junk)]

[Gae Bulg’s Broken Spirit Seed (Junk): On average, weapon spirits don’t live very long. In terms of human years, Gae Bulg was over two thousand years old. The only reason he continued living despite his age was due to Lan. Upon Lan’s death, Gae Bulg lost his will to live and passed away.]

[Obtained Spear (Uncommon)]

[Spear (Uncommon): This spear used to be Gae Bulg (Epic). Without the spirit of Gae Bulg, Gae Bulg (Epic) is just a spear.]

Yeoman looked over the items and couldn’t help but feel a little sad. If he defeated Lan legitimately, perhaps Puppers, no, Gae Bulg would’ve taken Yeoman as his new master; then Yeoman would’ve had an (Epic) spear along with a really useful weapon spirit. Instead, the most useful item turned out to be the Ravenwood Ring, which was only briefly mentioned in the original story as the ring of teleportation. Yeoman hesitated. His clothes had been dissolved by the bear’s stomach acid, and he was left naked. With an awkward expression, Yeoman took Lan’s pants as well.

[Obtained Lan’s Pants (Common)]

[Lan’s Pants (Common): Lan has trained in these pants for three years, wearing them every day. They have never been washed.]

Yeoman gagged. Eating people? Fine. Digging through brains? Fine. Wearing these pants? Not fine. However, Yeoman still put them on. It wasn’t like he cared about getting a fungal infection. His whole body was already occupied by a zombie fungus.