章節 2: Chapter 2 People Starving to Death_1

編輯: EndlessFantasy Translation

It was once again the busiest time of year, when the crops had ripened, and the season of harvest had arrived.

Ange was toiling away, his sharp scythe sweeping high and low as rows upon rows of crops were severed at the root and neatly fell to the side, with a precision that seemed as if an invisible hand were arranging them.

This was the result of untold years of ceaseless labor. The scythe in his hands moved as if it were alive. He cut where and how deep he wanted to, setting up the ideal conditions for the crop sorting to come.

In the midst of this tireless work, the night passed in silence. As dawn approached, the chirping of birds gradually filled the air. Birds of all kinds descended onto the ridges of the field, pecking at the scattered crops.

If they were only eating the scattered crops, Ange wouldn't mind. However, these scraps were nothing compared to the succulent fruits still on the stalks, and many inexperienced newcomers crossed the line, landing on the unharvested crops.

Ange cocked his head, walked to the edge of the field, grabbed the scarecrow's straw hat, and placed it on his own head.

Once activated by magic power, Ange, donning the straw hat, transformed into a hawk and flew into the field. The sight frightened the birds preying on the crops, causing them to scatter and flee, afraid to return for quite some time.

A scarecrow's hat, an illusion-casting magical tool, only required a tiny bit of magic power to maintain an illusion for an extended time. Unless someone had a spiritual power greater than Ange's, it would be difficult to see through it. It was more than enough to scare off the birds.

Once upon a time, the scarecrows, with their hats on, were capable of casting an illusion, startling any bird or beast trying to pilfer. But Ange wasn't sure when, one by one, the scarecrows had ceased their activities.

After several years of mass decline in crop yield, birds and other creatures grew in number. Even the freshly sown seeds were dug up and devoured. Ange then realized the scarecrow's function and began slowly learning how to harness the illusion power of the hat.

By now, he had mastered how to mimic several forms, such as the hawk, the creatures the birds and beasts feared the most.

A large hawk could be seen flapping its wings, crisscrossing the field as the crops were continuously harvested. The greedy birds, scared by the sight, didn't dare descend for a long while.

The sun eventually rose, its rays alighting upon Ange and bringing with it a hint of scorching heat.

Undead creatures despise sunlight and Ange was no exception. A long, long time ago, if he stayed in the sunlight for a few minutes longer, he'd feel like his soul was about to burst. Back then, he would scurry away as swiftly as possible, finding places where the sun couldn't reach.

Yet, over a thousand years had passed. Ange might not like the sunlight, but he no longer felt as uncomfortable as before, especially when only a bit of the crop was left to harvest. He believed he could endure it a little longer.

Under the glaring sunlight, Ange harvested the last row of crops, bundling them up. He then began pushing his little cart, transporting them towards the storage shed.

In the middle of this, Ange suddenly felt something odd. Looking towards the outer edge of the farm, he saw a faint white light radiating from an arch-shaped gate beyond the fence.

Ange couldn't remember how many years had passed since he had last seen such an occurrence. Up until this point, there had been no sound, no light, only a solemn and echoing silence.

Why was the arch glowing? Had the indestructible souls returned?

Ange promptly made a detour, abandoning the idea of storing the grain. He instead pushed his cart towards the glowing arch. However, upon reaching the arch, he found no undead souls. Apart from the softly glowing arch, the surrounding situation flashed no change from the norm.

Ange circled the arch in confusion. As he circled around, he eventually stepped into the center of the archway and disappeared.

All he perceived was a blur. The barren desolation of the farm was replaced by an equally austere wilderness. Two pillars stood erect in the wasteland, faintly diffusing a white light.

Ange took a step forward, yet he seemed to tug at the white light radiating from both pillars, connecting him to the pillars like a screen.

Upon advancing once more, Ange felt restricted. A film of light was binding him to the pillars.

What is this thing? He gave a tug and tore through the film of light, his foot finally making contact with the ground.

The torn light film floated weakly, contracting until it finally shrank onto his wrist, transforming into a leather wristband engraved with magical symbols.

A magical accessory? Ange tilted his skull in consideration.

Just then, a weak human voice echoed behind him: "Hawk… Hawkman? I… I prayed… to the undead souls… why did a Hawkman arrive?"

Ange turned his gaze to the ground where a skeletal human sprawled upon the earth. His extended arm was thin and bony, skin clinging tightly against the skeleton. The human pointed at Ange resentfully, uttering his final word before his head and arms flopped limply onto the ground, unconscious.

Hawkman? Me? Ange tilted his head, puzzled. He was obviously a skeleton, so why did the human call him a 'Hawkman'? What was a Hawkman?

Realizing this, Ange felt for his head and removed the scarecrow's hat.

So that was it. His scarecrow's hat remained on his head. It still gave him the appearance of a hawk, causing the misunderstanding with the human.

Hanging his hat around his neck, Ange moved by the human's side, prodding him with a finger. No response; he was clearly unconscious.

Upon closer observation, the human's life force was dwindling, on the verge of extinction, which meant that the human was nearly dead.

This left Ange somewhat bewildered and helpless. He was just a small farming skeleton, and he'd never encountered such a situation. What was he supposed to do now?

He pondered for a moment and remembered the cart he had. He'd just harvested the crop and filled the cart with the intention to deliver it to the warehouse. But he'd been distracted by the celestial light beam and had come here with his cart in tow. Right now, he had a trolley full of food on his hands.

Humans need food, right? This one seemed so skinny; he must be starving. Once the thought crossed his mind, Ange knew what to do. After all, there wasn't much he was capable of.

He flipped the human over, stuffed a handful of grain into his mouth, then squatted there, arms around his knees, observing.

Why isn't he eating? Ange mused for a while before he made a logical conclusion – an unconscious person couldn't eat.

Since that was the case, Ange decided to provide some extra help, stuffing more grain forcibly into the human's mouth. After several handfuls, the human weakly awoke, as expected.

The feeble human managed to sputter out the grain, which had nearly choked him to death. He strained to indicate that the grains needed to be shelled and cooked before consumption. Furthermore, he was dying of thirst and needed water.

Faced with these requests, Ange encountered difficulties. Where was he supposed to find water?

Unable to provide water and with the grain proving inedible, the enfeebled human, despite eyeing the cartload of food, eventually succumbed to starvation and died.

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章節 3: Chapter 3: Little Zombie (Revised)_1

編輯: EndlessFantasy Translation

Upon the human's death, Ange realized he couldn't return anymore. The luminescent membrane turned into a magical armlet on his wrist, but he didn't know how to change it back.

Ange didn't dwell too much on not being able to return. Here wasn't much different from the Resting Camp — equally desolate and quiet, with the only difference being the presence of other skeletons.

Not long after the human's death, a decaying skeleton wandered over from afar. It staggered forward with its hollow eye sockets focused on the human's body, as if something about the corpse intrigued it.

However, as it approached within a range of about thirty meters, the decaying skeleton stopped abruptly. It cocked its head, somewhat puzzled, and turned towards Ange, Its hollow eyes falling upon him.

The Soul Fire within its eye sockets trembled for a moment before the skeleton turned around and wandered off in another direction, moving even faster this time.

Skeletons have different ranks, and Ange's rank was much higher than this decaying skeleton's, which had scared it off directly.

So, Ange stayed right there and managed to scare off over a dozen decaying skeletons and white skeletons that afternoon. It was as though boundaries had been re-established, and no low-level skeleton dared to wander towards Ange anymore.

Ange dug a hole to settle down temporarily, burying the food from his trolley in another hole.

Admittedly, the timing of the hole was perfect. By evening, Ange noticed that the roaming skeletons had started to dig holes simultaneously. They buried themselves before a wind began to blow.

This wind was the Resting Wind.

The Resting Wind is the origin of all living creatures in the Land of Death. It bestowed life upon the scattered corpses, bones, and soul fragments, nurturing them into skeletons, necromancers, and the undead. However, it could also mercilessly destroy everything if disrespected in the slightest way.

As an undead, long-term exposure to the Resting Wind would slowly solidify and dry up the soul, leading to its eventual extinction. This rule applied even to the mighty Golden Skeleton Wraith King — the difference being their ability to withstand its effects longer.

Ange lay in the dug-out hole, listening to the whistling of the Resting Wind. His soul gradually calmed down. The Resting Wind had a calming effect on souls, provided they were not hit directly by it.

Laying in the hole, Ange's curiosity led him to stretch out a finger into the chilling wind. The fog-like Resting Wind passed across his finger, stirring vortices. Under the wind's touch, his entire palm turned silvery white, like metal.

As the wind swept across him, a chilly sensation slithered from his palm down to his Soul Fire, giving him a sense of invigoration as though his soul was being devoured. This enlivened his spirit.

For skeletons like himself, the best means of empowerment was to devour the souls of their kind. But as a farming skeleton, Ange had no need to enhance his soul. Besides, he was the only one left in the Resting Camp with no kin to prey upon.

However, self-empowerment is innate to all souls. After trying it out, Ange found it irresistible, almost addictively reaching both his hands out.

The night passed, and dawn arrived, bringing an end to the Resting Wind.

Ange felt a significant solidification of his soul. He couldn't tell by how much, but his bones had drastically altered. There were fewer dents and ravines, the bigger holes had shrunk, and the small ones were filled up, just as if they had been puttied over.

If he was exposed to the wind a few more times, it seemed he wouldn't have to replace his bones, Ange thought to himself.

Upon climbing out of the hole, Ange noticed the corpse of the human from yesterday was gone. Looking up, he saw it had been transformed into a zombie, slowly shuffling away from him.

Ange ran over and dragged the little zombie back. Terrified, thinking that Ange wanted to eat it, the little zombie struggled desperately. Unsurprisingly, even the decaying and white skeletons had been scared off by Ange, let alone the newly-born zombie, which was swiftly stripped bare.

Stripped of human items — a leather pouch, an empty water bottle, a longsword. Inside the pouch was a map and a few silver coins, but there was nothing to prove its identity.

In other words, why and how the human came here, and how he activated the Teleportation Array, might forever remain a mystery. If Ange couldn't figure out how to use the magical armlet, he might never get to return.

Ange stared at the now marred bones, thinking that perhaps not being able to return wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Thanks to the Resting Wind, Ange made a home for himself in this wilderness, with the wind gusting over him daily, continually empowering his soul.

The newly-born little zombie gradually grew familiar with Ange too. In the beginning, it was petrified when Ange dragged it away and stripped it bare. It thought it was going to be eaten. But after having stripped it, Ange ignored it.

A newly-born little zombie that just escaped death, wandering around aimlessly until the Resting Wind started to blow.

Being new-born, it was unable to withstand the harsh blow of the Resting Wind. With an instinct to survive, it attempted to dig into the ground to hide, but given its pace, it would get disintegrated by the wind before it could dig a big enough hole.

Luckily, the hole Ange had dug was not too distant, and braving the wind, he reached the zombie and dragged it into his hole.

Compared to the little zombie, Ange was too formidable, which made sharing a hole with him rather oppressive, scaring the zombie to attempt crawling out. However, as its head peeked out of the hole, the chilling wind forced it to retreat. In the end, it crouched in a corner of the hole, clutching its head and shivering.

Ange paid it no mind and stretched out his hands to harness the chilling wind. As dawn broke and the Resting Wind halted, the little zombie hastily crawled out of the hold.

This time, the little zombie decided to keep its distance from this terrifying place. But shortly after stepping outside the thirty meter radius, another wandering skeleton chased it back in. The thirty-meter area around Ange was his territory. In it, he wouldn't bother with the little zombie. But once it stepped out of that range, its fragile newly-born soul became a tempting meal, an easy target for anyone.

After being chased back by other skeletons a few times, the little zombie figured out that every other place was more terrifying than here.

As evening approached and the Resting Wind began to blow again, the distressed, hole-digging-incapable little zombie timidly returned to Ange's hole.

It continued to keep its eye on Ange, warily creeping further into the hole each time he ignored it. Eventually, it backed itself into the same corner as it occupied the previous night, assuming the same position, clutching its head. The only difference was it no longer shivered.

The next morning, it could not wait to crawl out again. By evening, it had returned to the hole before the Resting Wind had even started to blow. It no longer clutched its head; instead it watched Ange curiously, even venturing to mimic his action of reaching out a hand from the hole.

Of course, this reckless move led the little zombie's soul to a brutal baptism by the chilling wind.

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