"It's a scroll."
The eerie, rasping voice of the Zurrernorn Leader slithered through the air as he listened to the account of his subordinate's death.
"A scroll? How is that possible?" Khajiit's expression twisted in disbelief.
Even after being resurrected, his body felt frail and drained, yet his mind was clearer than ever.
At this moment, his sharpest memory was the scene of his own death—the middle-aged man who had cut him down. He had briefly suspected a scroll had been used against him, but he had dismissed the idea almost immediately.
That was a Third-Tier Angel!
The current scroll-making technology possessed by the major factions only allowed for the creation of Third-Tier scrolls at best.
Not only were there very few masters capable of crafting such scrolls, but these powerful artifacts were also hoarded by Magician Guilds and treated as strategic war assets by various nations.
And besides—
Magic cast through scrolls always suffers a drop in potency.
While it was true that the Slane Theocracy had been rumored to be researching Fourth-Tier Scrolls, Khajiit had never expected their success.
That level of information was far beyond the reach of someone like him.
"Don't be deceived by appearances," the Zurrernorn Leader sneered.
"Third-Tier scrolls are valuable, but not nearly as rare as you think—quack tick tick~"
A disturbing, inhuman chuckle rasped from his throat. As he laughed, the dark magic surrounding his form quivered, pulsing ominously.
"Besides," he continued, "the Slane Theocracy started working on Fifth-Tier Scrolls over a century ago. As for Fourth-Tier Scrolls? They completed that research hundreds of years ago."
Hundreds of years ago?!
The revelation sent a shockwave through Khajiit's mind.
His great-grandfather hadn't even been born back then!
Even the memories of his own mother were starting to fade into obscurity!
Khajiit shuddered.
This is what he had been pursuing!
"You fool."
The Zurrernorn Leader's voice turned mocking.
"Didn't you notice? The ones who killed you only used two types of magic the entire time. You don't even know their appearance or body type."
There was a cruel edge to his tone.
"If I went through the trouble of bringing you back, you owe me your service. For now—you will be my slave."
Khajiit flinched but immediately bowed his head in submission.
"Yes," he answered quickly.
Still trembling, he forced himself to his feet, his gaze darting nervously around the lifeless, death-choked landscape surrounding them.
"Where… is this place?" he asked cautiously.
The Zurrernorn Leader uttered two chilling words—
"Land of Terror."
Without another word, he turned and strode deeper into the cursed land, his shadow stretching unnaturally beneath the blood-red sky.
The Next Day
Vail's Tailor Shop
Situated two streets away from the Adventurer's Guild, this small tailor shop bore an unassuming name.
However, its owner, Old Will, was well-known among adventurers.
Though his prices were steep, his craftsmanship was unmatched—especially for adventurer attire.
Inside the shop, Sakeer stood before a mirror, examining himself with a satisfied expression.
His outfit was a mix of elegance and practicality—
A pure white priest-like robe draped over his figure, its outer layer appearing soft and flowing, yet underneath, a tight-fitting black garment hugged his frame.
Unlike traditional priest robes, his attire had been modified.
The waistline was narrower, the length shortened, ensuring full mobility without being completely enveloped in loose fabric.
After spending over a month in the Great Forest of Tob, his once-short hair had grown out, though he had only given it a slight trim.
In the mirror, his reflection gave off a gentle, refined aura.
With plenty of money on hand, Sakeer saw no reason to skimp on quality. A few days prior, he had commissioned this outfit from Old Will, ensuring it met his personal specifications.
The priestly robe was a deliberate choice—meant to align with his identity as a faith-based magic caster.
Beneath it, the black underlayer was a precaution.
Loose-fitting robes could hinder movement, especially for spellcasters, and he wasn't about to let his attire become a liability in battle.
"How does it feel, sir?"
A voice spoke up from the side.
Old Will, an aging tailor with graying hair and a leather apron, watched him with a keen, professional eye.
"Do you require any adjustments?"
Sakeer smiled faintly.
"Your craftsmanship is excellent."
Old Will simply nodded, unfazed by the praise. He had heard it countless times before.
However—after a brief pause, he hesitated.
"Sir," he murmured, his tone thoughtful.
"Are the cuffs not a bit… too wide?"
The rest of the outfit was perfectly tailored, but the white robe's cuffs billowed slightly more than necessary.
When Sakeer's arms rested at his sides, the loose fabric completely covered his hands.
For someone who wielded weapons, this could be an issue.
Even for a spellcaster, unnecessarily large sleeves could prove inconvenient.
"It's fine."
Sakeer flicked his cuffs and smiled, unconcerned.
This design was intentional.
The loose cuffs were wide enough to discreetly retrieve items from his item box, and they could also serve as a cover when using a scroll.
"Ah... Please forgive my presumption, sir."
Old Will hesitated before continuing, brushing back his graying hair with a hint of embarrassment.
"I added a concealed button at the shoulder. If you pull it, the cuffs will tighten, making it easier to move your arms freely when needed."
Sakeer blinked in mild surprise. Only now did he notice the nearly invisible white button subtly placed at the folded section of both shoulders.
A thoughtful and subtle design.
"No, I actually like it," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Are the other sets ready?"
"As per your request, I made three additional sets. Including the one you're wearing, that's four in total," Old Will replied.
"The price for each set is six gold coins."
After stating the price, the old tailor carefully studied Sakeer's reaction.
The cost of these clothes was not cheap. In fact, it could have been lower, but since Sakeer had been in a hurry, Old Will had prioritized speed over cost.
"Twenty-four gold coins?"
Sakeer was momentarily surprised but didn't hesitate. He reached into his money pouch, withdrew the coins, and handed them over.
With around six hundred gold coins still in his possession, plus the Shadow Staff and Bone Necklace he had recently acquired, he figured that selling them would bring in even more funds.
"Alright, let's go, Kuro."
Sakeer picked up the remaining three sets of clothes, called out to the little Barghest, and turned to leave the shop.
The streets were lively, filled with a steady flow of pedestrians, yet the usual boisterous chatter was noticeably subdued.
Even compared to a few days ago, an undercurrent of tension hung in the air.
Sakeer had already gathered some information during his stay, and with the way things were unfolding, he decided it was best to leave E-Rantel as soon as possible and head toward the Baharuth Empire.
For now, however, he had another stop to make—
Lizzie Bareare's shop, where he intended to sell some herbs from the two baskets he had collected.
This journey to the Baharuth Empire wouldn't be easy.
He'd need money. A lot of it.
Moving with the crowd, Sakeer turned a corner.
His arm moved slightly—and in an instant, the package in his hand changed.
Where there had once been clothes, there was now a bundle of herbs.
He had only taken a portion from the two baskets.
After all, selling everything at once would be far too conspicuous.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted to the Fifth-Tier Magic he had acquired the night before—
"Resurrection of the Dead: Reformation."
The more he understood the world around him, the clearer it became—
Humans here were far more complex than they appeared in the anime.
Even converting Faith-based magic into Arcane magic was something this world's people had accomplished—a concept once only briefly mentioned in novels.
Take the magic "Silence", for example.
Although it belonged to the Faith system, the Slane Theocracy had found a way to replicate its effects using Arcane magic—
But that was merely a low-tier spell.
"Resurrection of the Dead" was a Fifth-Tier magic.
The fact that someone had managed to alter magic of that level spoke volumes about the power of the Zurrernorn Organisation Leader.
A serious expression crossed Sakeer's face.
His experiences over the past few weeks had completely reshaped his perspective on the humans of this world.
Alchemy. Scroll crafting. Magical modification.
They had achieved things that had been impossible in the game.
Of course!
For over 600 years, humans have explored the depths of magic and technology, advancing beyond imagination.
If it weren't for the limitations of race, the gap between them would have been impossible to cross.
How could a player—someone merely treating this world as a game—compare to centuries of accumulated knowledge and progress?
This was the weight of history.
"This resurrection magic… is the ultimate way to kill someone."
Sakeer's gaze flickered, a thought solidifying in his mind.
The spell "Resurrection of the Dead: Reformation" had far more sinister potential than he had initially realized.
(End of Chapter)