Ghost Town

A place that exists, yet doesn’t. Ghost Town.

Straddling the boundary between the living world and the underworld, it was a spirit realm the living weren’t meant to enter.

A ghost city, in the most literal sense.

Figures drifted everywhere. Calling them people felt wrong. Their outlines were so dim it was hard to make out faces, shadows with barely any shape left. Ghost crowds in a ghost city.

‘The dead….’

Solomon moved forward in a gas mask, with the guide fairy beside him.

“How long’s it been since we came in here? About two centuries, maybe…? Hoo, I’m fucking craving fairy dust. Ah, not that way. That’s the road to the underworld, and Hotel Snark is that way.”

The fairy, now out of the cage and perched on Solomon’s shoulder, gestured.

“Turn around and walk back.”

They’d only been here a few dozen minutes, but maybe withdrawal had already hit. Cold sweat beaded on him, and his wings and limbs trembled.

“Yeah. So we’re all set, right? Great, let’s go! Just so you know, that way’s the road to the underworld.”

“…”

“I’ve been curious for a long time, so this is perfect. I don’t know why living is so damn boring these days.”

Even so, Solomon could feel the value of the druggie fairy on his shoulder more than ever.

[Ghost Town’s paths can’t be explained by the logic of the living. Because simply taking a few steps, a few paces, turning a few degrees can make you set foot in the wrong place, somewhere you can never return from….]

At first, there seemed to be only one path.

But as the fairy said, in the time it took to take a few steps, the road split into two forks before Solomon even noticed.

And one of them was a fork that would never let him return to this world. The road to the underworld.

Only then did he get it. This “city” was really a cluster of countless forks, dividing life from the underworld.

One wrong turn couldn’t be undone.

“Ah, from here, the power of reasoning’s gotten stronger. No need to worry about getting lost now.”

“The reasoning got stronger?”

“It’s like proof the living’s influence has grown stronger.”

It wasn’t hard to understand what that meant.

“…It means we’re almost at Hotel Snark.”

“Yeah. Now there’s only one thing you need to watch out for.”

“What is it?”

Solomon’s mind ran through spirits hungry for life, wandering dead, all kinds of threats. The fairy answered.

“The living ones.”

“What?”

“Why are you acting like it’s someone else’s problem? I’m talking about you.”

Solomon felt even more dumbfounded.

“What do you mean?”

“Let me give you an example. Hm. You see that?”

The fairy pointed.

“You can see it now, right? It’s right in front of your nose.”

“…What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”

Miasma wrapped Ghost Town like smog, and to make it worse, the gas mask he wore as a countermeasure made it hard to see.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just the wraiths who lose their minds and charge the moment they see a living person.”

“!”

It was not nothing. Solomon snapped his focus tight and drew the Ghost Whale bone blade.

Beyond the black mist that washed everything out, a mass of wavering silhouettes surged toward him.

Not on two legs, but floating wraiths, dim shapes glowing dimly and darkly, gliding through the air.

They rose and dove like aerial acrobats. Facing their rush, Solomon set his stance and swung his blade.

Chwaak!

The Ghost Whale bone blade. True to its name, it bit cleanly into a wraith that ordinary weapons couldn’t even scratch, exerting its influence.

Kieeeeeeek!

A shriek tore through the air. Solomon swung again at another wraith diving like an eagle.

Again, the Ghost Whale bone blade sank in, and the wraith unraveled, its silhouette turning transparent like a ribbon knot coming undone. That was the second.

After that, the remaining wraiths halted and retreated as if spooked.

‘Feels like I’ll hit level 3 soon….’

Annoyed at losing flying EXP, Solomon clicked his tongue silently.

“See? Someone who’s done a lot of dunking does it better.”

The fairy muttered like it didn’t concern him.

“You think those guys ever dunked people while alive? Looking at your face, you’ve dunked quite a few. Same thing as food. People who’ve eaten meat before know how to eat it.”

“I doubt those are the only things we need to watch out for.”

“That’s why I told you earlier. Watch out for those who are alive.”

The fairy shrugged.

“Oops. Looks like there’s another one right there.”

“—”

Where the fairy pointed, someone was moving through the ghost crowd. Not far. Close enough to see clearly.

But not in the death-thick air smothering Ghost Town.

“By the way, in our line of work, anyone with their head still attached counts as alive.”

“What does that—”

“Ever heard of a walking corpse?”

Even Solomon’s sharpened senses were useless here, and the gas mask made it worse.

So he didn’t hesitate.

‘<Darkvision>.’

A spell that let him see beyond even walls in the dark.

The hazy scenery snapped into clearer outlines, like night-vision goggles clicking on.

The ghosts standing blankly faded into something like air, and one presence stood out among them, undeniably “alive” in its movement.

A human silhouette, distinct. And on its back, something big enough to fit a whole person and still have room.

A symbol of death. A funerary mark.

‘A coffin?!’

Then the stench hit him, stabbing even through the mask. The smell of a corpse rotting and decaying

‘A zombie!’

A corpse walking on two legs despite its flesh rotting away, with a coffin strapped to its back.

A walking corpse, exactly.

“Damn, it’s in great shape. You could slice it up and eat it raw.”

It had decayed, but not to the point of exposed bone. Its gear was intact too. It wasn’t wearing scraps.

Taang!

When he realized it, something fired. Killing intent skittered down Solomon’s spine. He sensed it by instinct and threw himself aside.

‘An automatic crossbow!’

A spear of death grazed Solomon’s cheek. The aim was precise.

Rolling, he yanked out the Nightfall automatic crossbow from the Quick Loader belt at his waist.

Clank, clank!

From a compact form small enough to fit in the belt, gears, drive parts, and the main frame expanded in sequence and began to lock into place.

Click.

As the frame and drive parts found their positions, the gear lock—the ratchet wheel—moved and clicked into place.

Taang!

Only after returning fire did he realize that such an attack would not work against a living corpse.

“Ghuuueeoo…”

A standoff at mid-range.

And in the middle of it, a voice came from a human throat. A real voice.

It wasn’t slow and sluggish like people imagined zombies. It was fast. And it moved while handling an automatic crossbow with skill beyond an ordinary person.

‘It’s fast. This isn’t a normal zombie.’

It moved like a fellow professional. A hunter.

Solomon dashed through the ghost crowd standing slack-jawed. With <Darkvision>, tracking the zombie hidden among them wasn’t hard.

Unlike the Ghost Whale bone blade, the Nightfall automatic crossbow couldn’t strike wraiths, so the bolts passed straight through the ghost crowds and flew toward the living corpse.

The zombie’s crossbow was no exception.

With bolts raining from both sides, Solomon kept closing the distance through the crowd.

Koo-woong!

The zombie slammed the thing on its back into the ground.

‘What are you going to do with a coffin?!’

A casket was meant to hold a corpse. Solomon had barely formed the thought when the answer arrived.

The rectangular structure split open to both sides, and countless mechanical arms unfolded from within like spider legs.

Not a corpse.

A telescoping expansion frame, layered mechanisms snapping outward all at once.

‘A crossbow turret…!’

From the coffin reborn as a turret, the mechanical arms swung toward Solomon in unison. Each one built to pour bolts on the spot.

No time. Not even a second.

‘<Shadow Mimic>.’

The moment he cast it, Solomon’s shadow surged up behind the zombie. Before it could mimic his next move, Solomon layered another spell.

‘<Shadow Swap>.’

He hadn’t been aiming to attack. The second spell activated, and Solomon and the shadow mimic switched positions in a blink.

Tudadadadada!!

The turret’s barrage poured down with terrifying momentum, shredding Solomon’s shadow weakly, just like it pierced the ghost crowd. The rain of death hit only what was already dead.

And Solomon, now in a new position, faced the zombie head-on.

He quickly yanked the hidden wire mechanism under his sleeve and drew the Ghost Whale bone blade. The zombie drew its weapon to meet him, reading Solomon’s approach with practiced ease.

‘A rapier?!’

Blade met blade. No backstab. No advantage. A straight duel.

And the zombie wasn’t sluggish. Not even in the slightest.

Kaang!

Steel rang. The exchanges chained together, and Solomon slipped aside from the rapier’s thrust like flowing water, countering in the same motion, like two snakes snapping for each other’s tails.

“Ah… pardon me.”

“!”

The zombie sprang back, widening the distance and avoiding the Ghost Whale bone blade. Then, still in place, it raised both hands, as if it had no intention of continuing.

More shocking was the voice that followed. Human. Not the zombie groan from before.

“You’ve sufficiently proven your skill. I ask that you, ghuuuh… forgive my sudden rudeness.”

“A zombie can talk…?”

“Oh, ghuu… That is existential discrimination that violently defines the form of one’s existence.”

It continued, hoisting the coffin onto its back again with practiced ease.

“For a Woker¹ like me to hear… ghuu… it is not a very pleasant thing to say.”

In the silence, the fairy cut in, casual as ever.

“Hm, do you know what they call the bullshit your type spouts?”

“Tell me.”

“It’s fairy dick-sucking bullshit.”

“Your rudeness shows no sign of changing even after centuries.”

Solomon kept his blade ready, but held his tongue.

“The way to Hotel Snark is this way, young contractor.”

“And you… what are you?”

“I am this place’s gatekeeper, and ghuu… the hotel’s resident undertaker.”

The gatekeeper and resident undertaker spoke evenly.

“You have safely passed the test and earned the right to pass through the door.”

It was then.

[Experience isn’t only gained by killing someone. Sometimes, passing a test and proving your qualification before someone is enough…. Congratulations! You have reached level 3!]

The voice in Solomon’s head rang out as if it had been waiting.

“Welcome to Hotel Snark.”

The air of death vanished like a lie. The ghost crowd that had filled Ghost Town was gone as well.

And beyond where the gray mist had hidden everything until moments ago, a towering hotel came into view.

As if it could only be entered once the being before him granted permission.

“The Faceless One is waiting for you.”