The scent of blood mixed with a faint stench lingered in the air as Sakeer ascended the crumbling temple steps, stopping beside Khajiit's lifeless corpse. The severed head lay at an awkward angle, its vacant eyes filled with lingering resentment.
Sakeer exhaled softly—not out of sympathy for Khajiit, but because he realized something about himself.
He felt nothing.
At some point, the sight of death had become just another part of his world. The month-long slaughter of goblins in the Great Forest of Tob had undoubtedly changed him. He thought back to his previous life, where he hadn't even killed a chicken. Yet, in just two months in this world, he had adapted completely.
Shaking off the thought, he reached down and retrieved two magic items—the Staff of Shadows and a bone necklace. Khajiit's blood-red robe had also been a magic artifact, but the attack from the Archangel Flame had reduced it to ashes. Sakeer couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. The robe would have been worth quite a bit.
After briefly identifying the two remaining artifacts, he determined that both were tailored for necromancers—of little use to him.
"You four, stay here and guard the perimeter," he instructed, gesturing at the four Archangel Flames.
With two other Archangel Flames accompanying him, Sakeer descended into the temple's underground passage.
Nearly ten minutes passed before he emerged from the darkness. Dust clung to his robes, but he had found nothing of value. His expectations had been too high.
"Burn it," he ordered, his voice calm.
The Archangel Flames obeyed immediately, stepping forward and touching their blazing swords to Khajiit's corpse. In an instant, the remains were reduced to ash.
One of the archangels moved toward Khajiit's severed arm, preparing to incinerate it as well.
"Wait."
Sakeer's eyes flickered as he stepped forward, picking up the severed arm. He quickly wrapped it in a rag and tucked it away.
"It's time to go."
Glancing toward the distant city walls, he turned and quietly slipped back into the night.
---
Beyond the cemetery's thick, closed gates, two guards stood watch, their lanterns glowing with Sustained Light magic.
One of the sentries nervously eyed the depths of the cemetery.
"What the hell is going on in there? Why is there such a bright light?"
"Should we report it...?"
"Idiot!" The other guard snapped. "What happens in the cemetery at night has nothing to do with us."
A shaky voice protested, "But—"
"But nothing," the senior guard cut in. "Our orders are to keep the undead from storming the gates. Do you see any undead rushing through?"
The first guard hesitated, then slowly shook his head.
"Exactly. Whatever happens in the cemetery, we leave it alone. We'll report it at dawn and let the adventurers deal with it."
Their whispered argument continued, but Sakeer was already gone—his figure vanishing into the shadows beyond the city wall.
By the time he returned to the inn, it was well past two in the morning.
Using the alleyway as leverage, Sakeer easily scaled the building, slipping through the second-floor window back into his room.
The moment his feet touched the floor, a low growl of excitement greeted him.
"Awo!"
The Little Barghest leaped up from its spot, tail wagging, its glowing eyes locked onto Sakeer.
"Shh." He raised a finger to his lips.
The creature let out a muffled whimper, lowering its voice obediently before rubbing its head against his leg.
"Good boy, Little Black." Sakeer chuckled, feeling that despite its supernatural nature, the creature was really just like a loyal dog.
He lifted his arms slightly and sniffed. A faint stench of blood and decay still clung to him.
"Better take a shower," he muttered to himself.
Shrugging off his black robe, he casually tossed the wrapped severed arm into a corner of the room.
Even though he could cleanse himself with Odorless Magic, he preferred a proper shower—it made him feel human.
With that thought, he stepped into the small bathroom, letting the warm water wash away the night's remnants.
A Moment Later
A burst of white steam billowed from the bathroom as Sakeer stepped out of the shower.
His gaze swept across the dimly lit room, landing on the Little Barghest, which was crouched in the corner. The creature had somehow managed to unwrap the cloth around Khajiit's severed arm and was now staring at it with evident curiosity.
"There's negative energy in that," Sakeer remarked casually. "If you eat it, you'll just die faster."
The Little Barghest didn't fully understand his words, but it could sense something from Sakeer's expression. Its ears drooped slightly, and it instinctively shrank back, retreating a few cautious steps.
Sakeer's gaze lingered on the pale, withered arm for a moment before he looked away.
It wasn't as if he had a habit of collecting corpses—far from it. But when the Archangel Flame was about to incinerate the limb earlier, a sudden thought had stopped him.
In the anime, Khajiit and Clementine were both killed by the adventurer squad disguised by the Bone King. Yet, when their bodies were stored away, they vanished without a trace.
The Bone King hadn't seemed to care.
Sakeer, however, wasn't so indifferent.
There were only two possible explanations for such a disappearance:
The bodies were stolen. If that was the case, it meant there were still people within E-Rantel working for their faction.The bodies were resurrected.
Sakeer had brought the severed arm back to determine whether the second possibility was true.
If a resurrection spell had been cast, the remnants of the deceased's body would disappear along with them—and the location of resurrection would be wherever the caster was.
The leader of the Zurrernorn Organization remained an enigma.
Sakeer had a lingering suspicion.
Both Khajiit and Clementine had been members of the Slane Theocracy before defecting to the Zurrernorn Organization. If that was the case… could the mysterious leader of the [Zurrernorn] Organization also be connected to the Slane Theocracy?
The Theocracy possessed Six Scripture, each corresponding to one of their six gods. However, the strongest among them—the Black Scripture—was actually formed by selecting elite members from the other five divisions.
Rather than a special force devoted to a single god, it was a fusion of warriors from all five other branches.
Historically, five of the six human-player gods had died early on. Only one had survived the longest—a Reaper-class alien player.
That lone survivor became the most enigmatic deity worshipped by the Theocracy. In fact, there were hardly any records of their existence at all.
That was why Sakeer suspected the leader of [Zurrernorn] had ties to the Theocracy.
After all, Resurrection Magic was Faith-based magic—not something a Magic Caster could normally use.
Even the Bone King himself couldn't naturally wield Resurrection Magic.
The only reason the Bone King was capable of revival was due to his vast stockpile of resurrection items—powerful artifacts fueled by enormous resources.
But naturally mastering resurrection? That was beyond even him.
Sakeer exhaled, rubbing his temples.
"Why does it feel like this world is filled with nothing but scheming masterminds?"
He shook his head and turned toward the bed.
Whew!
Suddenly, the Little Barghest let out a low growl.
Sakeer stopped in his tracks and turned to follow its gaze—only to see Khajiit's severed arm pulsating with an eerie blue glow.
A moment later—
The entire armbegan to dissolve, vanishing like melting ice in the sun.
Ding!
A system notification flickered in his vision:
[Discovery Skill: Resurrection of the Dead: Reformation]
Requirement: Magic Caster Level (29–35) met.
Would you like to spend skill points to learn this ability?
[Skill Points: 40 → 39]
Skill Acquired: Resurrection of the Dead (5th Tier)
Mana Cost: 25 (Base: 50)
Description: A modified version of the original Faith-based Resurrection Magic, allowing a Magic Caster to activate it by expending double the usual mana cost.
Note: Can be combined with special methods to reduce corpse damage requirements.
Sakeer's eyes flickered as he scanned the information displayed on the panel.
His expression grew somewhat peculiar, and the corners of his lips curled into a smirk.
"Terrible luck," he muttered. "Not only did I guess wrong, but this Zurrernorn Leader seems even more troublesome than I expected."
Despite his words, there was an unmistakable amusement in his tone—as if he wasn't all that displeased with the outcome.
Unknown Location
The land stretched out in a deep, dark brown, as if stained red with old blood. A thick fog—invisible to the naked eye yet ever-present—hung in the air, casting eerie shadows under the moonlight.
Its glow clashed against the dark crimson haze, painting the entire landscape in an unsettling contrast of pale silver and blood-red.
"Gah!"
"Gah!"
A harsh, crow-like caw echoed through the void.
Yet, it wasn't the cry of a crow. The sound came from something else, an eerie, rasping call produced from the throat of a creature not of this world.
This land should have been devoid of life.
And yet—
Unwillingness!
Wrath!
Despair!
A torrent of negative emotions surged through Khajiit's very being. The suffocating weight of death itself pressed against him, sending violent tremors through his body.
Why am I still conscious?
I was supposed to be dead…
The thought barely formed in his mind before something shifted—a force he couldn't comprehend.
His eyes snapped open.
"Huff! Huff! Huff!"
Khajiit sat up abruptly, gasping for air. His chest heaved, eyes wide with terror, the remnants of despair still clinging to his expression.
"How amusing."
A voice—thin and grating, like iron rods scraping against each other—drifted through the oppressive darkness.
Khajiit's breath caught.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze.
A figure, shrouded in absolute blackness, stood before him.
But it wasn't clothing that concealed their form.
No—the very magic radiating from their body twisted reality itself, swallowing them in a void of pure darkness.
"Strange," the voice mused. "I recall you were in E-Rantel. A place that insignificant… shouldn't have had anyone capable of threatening you."
Khajiit's entire body seized with fear.
His breath hitched.
His knees buckled beneath him.
"L-L-Leader!"
Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, trembling.
(End of Chapter)