15. A New Undead Is Always Welcome

Yujin’s pupils trembled like aspen leaves.

To think the Martial-Mage trait would carry over.

Before the regression, back when he’d possessed Park Haneul into a Skeleton Knight, he’d never once glimpsed this trait.

A staggering unique trait. Even a search of the whole world over would turn up only a handful this powerful.

Mana climbs on its own, so there’s zero chance of stat allocation getting tangled, either.

Certain gates let a Hunter change into a special job class the System didn’t offer. Shin Junseok’s alchemist was one of them. So was the Magic-Swordsman, a special Martial-line job uncovered a few years back.

It was a position where you could master swordsmanship and magic at the same time.

At first, so many Hunters lined up to become Magic-Swordsmen that the gate began charging admission just to let them in. The only problem was that the bubble burst in under half a year.

“A half-baked dabbler that can’t handle close range OR long range.”

“No answer for stat allocation.”

“The perfect class for splitting your legs so wide you tear your own groin.”

Swordsmanship and magic. Mastery in even one of them was hard to come by. Drawing out a Magic-Swordsman’s full ability demanded talent in both physical sense and mana manipulation, and even someone who mastered both fields still had to divide a limited pool of bonus stats, so mediocrity was all but guaranteed.

With the Martial-Mage trait, it’s a different story.

Mana that grew no matter which stat he poured points into. The Magic-Swordsman’s chronic weakness, its lack of stats, was solved.

For a run-of-the-mill undead, this trait would mean little, true enough.

Necromancy, the art of raising the dead. What room for growth could there possibly be in a corpse? A higher undead like a Lich, a Death Knight, or a Banshee might be another matter, but all of those were monsters so powerful that, at Yujin’s current level, he couldn’t even dream of crafting them.

That’s how it used to be, anyway.

He’d added a growth option to the irregularly-made Eldritch Dragon. With the Martial-Mage trait layered on top, the stat bonuses it gained would be staggering.

The growth option was my own doing… but to think even the Martial-Mage trait would carry straight over.

The synchronization between Park Haneul and the Draconian corpse had to be that flawless. After all, when he’d possessed the soul into a Skeleton Knight before the regression, the Martial-Mage trait had never surfaced.

The Kenek Combat Art, that he inherited from the Draconian.

An A-grade Martial-line skill. Its proficiency sat at zero, since the technique wasn’t his own, but given his caliber, wouldn’t he pick it up in no time?

— What’s wrong, Mister Mourner?

Had he been staring in silence too long? Park Haneul prodded him out of his musings.

“The result came out different from what I expected.”

— What. Is there something wrong with me?

“The Martial-Mage trait carried over into that body. Seems it fits better than I thought.”

— Then that’s a good thing!

“Yeah.”

— Aigoo. Here I was tensing up, thinking something serious had happened.

Hahh.

The three-meter dragonkin giant heaved a sigh of relief. His innards had stilled long ago, dead as he was, and yet here he stood, breathing through sheer force of will.

Wants to feel alive, I suppose.

Among the dead, more than a few mimicked the way they’d been in life, but this particular side of Park Haneul was one he’d never seen in his past life.

Well. Back when the soul had dwelled in the Skeleton Knight’s body, it had struggled even to project its will at all.

“How’s the body?”

— Serviceable. Not as good as before I died, but.

In life, Park Haneul had climbed to the 6th Stellar Rank. A single rank’s difference was bigger than it sounded.

1st Rank, 5 bonus stats per level. 2nd Rank, 10. 3rd Rank, 15. And so on up, the bonus climbing in multiples of five.

The gap was wide enough on the numbers alone, and there was one more factor on top of that.

You can only climb to 3rd Rank by hunting monsters alone.

From the 4th Rank up, a Hunter had to attain an enlightenment in the relevant field. A Martial-line Hunter had to load intent onto the mana pooled in the body and awaken an aura. A Magic-line Hunter had to master multi-layered computation. And a Priest?

You settle it with money.

A Priest simply offered up a tribute that satisfied the Constellation they worshipped. Filthy money-worship. It was the reason the Priest job class got called the nobility.

And you’re the one mooching off me.

I’m only stating a fact.

Kronos was incomplete as a Constellation. By exploiting every irregularity and loophole in the rules of “domain,” Yujin had managed to forge him into a half-baked Constellation, but that still fell well short of a proper one. As for what condition he’d have to satisfy once he hit a wall, Yujin had no real sense of it.

Well, no need to fret about it this early.

Compared to his past life, even his starting point was already different. This was the Yujin who, without a stroke of luck like regression, had still stood at the very summit of Hunters, felling even the Seven Star, the world’s most elite rankers. His enlightenment was already fulfilled. He was confident he could meet any reasonable condition.

“Let’s go. My minion.”

— I don’t much care for the word ‘minion.’

“Then should I call you by your real name?”

— A body rotted away without a single bone left. I’d rather bury the name from that time along with the rotted flesh.

“Fussy as ever.”

Yujin fiddled with his chin. The Park Haneul of before the regression had been a man of few words. Was it the result of moving their meeting up by several years, or was it something else?

Either way, it’s not a bad change.

Better to lay out one’s opinions freely than to say little.

— Hmm. A name imposing enough to crush a man’s spirit just hearing it would be nice. But nothing comes to mind.

…No. A little reticence might be just fine.

Then, all at once, a single name brushed across his mind.

“Fafnir.”

— A foreign name? It rolls off the tongue rather nicely!

“It’s a dragon out of Norse mythology.”

The wicked wyrm slain by the hero Siegfried. Fortunately, Park Haneul seemed not to know the legend, and took to the dragon’s name with delight.

— Good. From now on, call me Fafnir. Heh heh heh!

Delight radiated off his will. A thoroughly cheerful undead, almost unsettlingly so.

“Ah. I should take this, too.”

Yujin approached the Orc chieftain, collapsed in a wretched heap.

Releasing the Draconian corpse had opened up the free space. The Orc chieftain’s body had reached the tail end of the 2nd Rank, so with some processing it could be made into a serviceable undead.

He didn’t leave the Orc corpses he’d harvested mana stones from untouched, either.

As bone and flesh separated, the corpses’ weight dropped sharply.

“You lot, gather up the corpses.”

“Gruaaah.”

The Armored Zombies picked up the bone-stripped Orc corpses.

“Let’s head back.”

“Yes, Boss.”

— Hold on. Isn’t it a bit too bare, walking around like this?

At Fafnir’s words, Yujin cocked his head with a look that said he didn’t follow.

“Bare how?”

— This body. It’s stark naked. Give me something to cover up with, at least.

“…”

Yujin stared fixedly for a moment, as if the sight were unfamiliar to him, then pointed at the tent where the Orcs had lodged.

“If it bothers you, wrap that around yourself or something.”

— Rrrip!

A brutish hand tore the tent apart. Fafnir wound the rag-like cloth around his waist.

Was that even his character to begin with?

Yujin pressed his temples hard with both hands.

Yujin’s party entered the borderlands checkpoint.

“A summon?”

“Never seen a summon like that, though.”

“More to the point — sniff, sniff — don’t you smell something strange?”

The Hunters lingering near the checkpoint watched the party with curious eyes. Some of them pinched their noses shut against the stench of rotting flesh.

“So this is why you can’t keep zombies around for long, huh.”

Kang Minho, brow furrowed at the smell stinging his nose, forced a smile all the same. With a pack of Armored Zombies right beside him, plugging his nose wasn’t enough.

“You’ll have to do the laundry a few times. The smell doesn’t come out easy.”

“I’d be better off washing it with Clean magic, honestly.”

“Wonder if there’s a service like that near the workshop.”

Clean was a common spell that used mana to clean garments, which naturally meant enlisting a Magic-line Hunter.

“Haah. We’ll just have to look for one.”

“Or I’ve got to make a trip to Seoul myself, so you lot could take a rest, too.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m not some sweatshop boss. I’ll give you a day off at least.”

— In that case, I’d also like to…

“His Minion-ship will kindly shut his mouth.”

— Now see here. I have a fine name — Fafnir.

“A walking corpse on the loose would get us reported.”

— Hmm. That would be a bit of a problem.

“If there’s someone you absolutely have to see, I’ll come along with you.”

— Hmph. There’s not a soul I’d care to greet, and when I swore myself to a dead body I buried my old ties along with it.

Park Haneul. No, Fafnir. He and Yujin had one thing in common: both of them were orphans. Fafnir had lost his parents in the Great Cataclysm. Yujin had been cast aside the moment he first saw the light of this world; that was the difference.

Either way, neither of us has a place to set our heart.

He’d heard the story in his past life. There was no need to make a show of knowing it, so Yujin swallowed the thought down inside.

Yujin, Armored Zombies in tow, went to the alchemy workshop.

“Hey. What’s that smell?”

Shin Junseok, who’d come out grumbling, gave a start at the sight of the Armored Zombies.

“A zombie wearing armor!”

— Startled by a monster of this caliber. A fellow short on nerve.

Shin Junseok turned at Fafnir’s jab. He stared fixedly for a moment.

“Isn’t this the corpse you had soaking in the smelting fluid?!”

Then the scream burst out of him, laced with admiration.

“Yeah. I found a soul to match the body out in the borderlands.”

“Here I went to all that trouble smelting the mana stones. Seeing it finished is something else.”

Shin Junseok approached Fafnir, eyes glittering.

— What is this pervert?

“A business partner. Don’t kill him even if he disgusts you.”

“Lord Yujin. Might I touch it just once? This is worth resear—”

— That settles it. I’ll have to kill him.

“Killing him is out. I’ll give you one arm, so let me research it!”

“Partner of mine. If you up and die on me pointlessly, it’s my loss too, so ease off.”

Shin Junseok backed away, reluctant.

“Boss. We’ll head to Seoul to offload our goods while we’re at it.”

“Be back within two days at the latest.”

“Yes, sir.”

[the Scraps] team dispersed too.

After having the pack of Armored Zombies stack the Orc bones in one corner of the storehouse, he withdrew his spirit-power.

— Thud!

The pack of Armored Zombies toppled to the ground.

— This doesn’t feel like someone else’s problem.

“A higher undead like you, I can’t withdraw spirit-power from, so there’s no need to worry.”

— Is that true?

“Try applying the spirit-power dwelling in your body.”

Fafnir, wearing a sour expression, gazed inward, then after a moment parted his lips.

— It really is.

“A higher undead that’s built up a mental image — I can’t reclaim its energy as I please.”

— Then you can’t control the undead, can you.

“It’d be a problem if you underestimated my dominion.”

The moment Yujin raised his index finger.

— Huh?

Fafnir’s leg lifted into the air, then slammed hard down into the ground.

— Kwang!

The earth caved into a crater from the great impact.

“I can put you to work without resorting to threats or the like, so don’t worry.”

— Just shy of a leash around the neck. A slave in all but name.

Leaving the grumbling Fafnir be, Yujin looked over the Orc bones laid out in the yard.

“Partner of mine.”

“What is it. Partner who doesn’t lift a finger to advance my alchemy.”

Shin Junseok came over readily enough, even as he aired his complaint.

“Break these bones down for me. And five hundred milliliters of that distilled blue herb, too.”

“I’m not some alchemy slave, or a machine. The moment I get to the workshop, it’s extortion and forced labor on top of it?”

He was a slave, though. Unable to bring himself to say it out loud, Yujin slowly coaxed Shin Junseok along.

“I’ll show you something interesting.”

“Showing me something doesn’t make it research-worthy.”

“C’mon. This time you can do whatever you like with it.”

“…You serious?”

“Have I ever spoken out of both sides of my mouth?”

“Fine.”

Shin Junseok ground every last one of the Orc bones into powder as instructed, sighing all the while. Yujin, for his part, used Flesh Control to strip the bone and flesh from the Orc chieftain.

“Fafnir. Gather up the powder and massage it into the chieftain’s corpse.”

— Oho. Planning to craft an undead?

“The more fighting strength the better.”

The instant the spirit-power sank into the bones, he hardened them further and pushed the Skeleton’s combat power up to 100%.

“And that’s not the end of it.”

The blue herb’s property was mana stabilization. He poured the distilled, pressed extract over the heaped powder.

The armor clung to the Skeleton’s body. The chieftain’s corpse swelled in bulk as it absorbed the powdered bone, and only once it had grown to roughly Fafnir’s size did the swelling stop.

The Orc chieftain’s arms broadened grotesquely, taking on a peculiar shape, as though shields had been mounted on each one.

“I’ll be relying on you for a while.”

— Clack, clack!

Its jaws clashed together, and a strange sound rang out.