Bro, I'm not an Undead!



Ashema had been watching when the Maqian army had infiltrated Opungale through the giant gap made through the nation's barrier – an ancient, natural protective mechanism – by the singular attack of bloated green flames which wiped out 15,000 Sif who had been waiting by the coast for the army's arrival. 

When the army had split, upon disembarking from their ships, with the prominent two that he had been keeping an eye on taking a different, more lackadaisical approach to what could possibly be a highly intense war – evidenced by their relaxed gait and non-aggressive movement through the thick forests of Opungale – Ashema had followed the group that was least likely to catch onto his presence.

That group, headed by a single Incandescent Stager, turned out to be the very same one that Skullius was assaulting right in this very moment. Ashema had instantly recognized Skullius from his hidden spot high up.

"It's you! It's definitely you!" he cried as he floated opposite Skullius who gave him a rough appraisal with a frown on his face.

Ashema's one gleaming eye shook excitedly.

It wasn't mere instinct or something so vague that allowed him to recognize that the pitch-black figure blending in with the night that he had seen over half an hour ago, was the same bold, more tangible one in front of him.

No.

It was the robe.

As well-defined as Skullius' features were while he was in the Crude World Projection form, they couldn't have given him away faster than his current trend of fashion, the robe of darkness which he adopted even in the Projected form. Perhaps, it was more apt to say that it gave the definite credence to the fact that it was him who Ashema had seen on the shore then. 

"And it's you…" Skullius said with his eyes narrowing. "What are you?"

"I asked you the same thing, and you never answered," Ashema said coyly. "Isn't it common courtesy – even among the kind that populates this place – to reply to the first inquisitor?"

"Not really…" Skullius said with a scoff. "You'll find that there's less civility when hostility is involved."

Ashema grinned and rubbed his ebony horns.

"Hmm. Strange, and quite pathetic. Lord Boron abolished such things as hostility amongst our kind. I can't even remember the last time someone killed anybody else among us, unless of course, be it by Lord Boron's will…"

Skullius tilted his head.

Ashema cackled, seemingly understanding Skullius' struggle.

The darkness he conjured vanished, and what was left was a long, dark scythe. Its handle was rugged, as though made from bone, or more specifically, a truly long spine. As Ashema whirled it about, it whistled like a flute, bringing to attention the many holes on it that suggested it was indeed, made like a flute, and was possibly hollow inside.

After the five-meter-long pole of the weapon, came a two meter long, curved blade with a hole in it as well. It was quite thick, and showed off a decrepit, filthy energy that was almost visible to the naked eye. Its ebony gleam was menacing, but above else…

'What grade is that weapon? I've handled all kinds of weapons, from Common to Mythical… but this…It doesn't even seem like the grade is the anomaly… It's almost like… it wasn't made using the same system that we use in Aigas…' Skullius thought, instinctively backing away within the air.

Ashema cackled at his reaction.

"Are you reconsidering your pompous declaration yet? Well, too late!" he cried, and another clump of darkness formed in his free hand only to disappear, leaving behind a large, ugly gourd in Ashema's grip.

Right when it appeared, Skullius felt activity down below.

Despite his timely intervention to save at least 90% of the people that were in this Aurora, several hundred thousand had already died.

It was these corpses that moved, convulsing as they laid on the ground. They then shot blood in the tens of liters into the air, towards Ashema!

The scene was so abrupt and bizarre that it alerted everyone still alive in the Aurora to the presence of the two in the sky.

The dark blood, made even darker by the prominent black in the sky, poured into Ashema's gourd with sickening wet, sloshy sounds.

'Better not wait for what's coming next…' Skullius thought, and immediately acted.

He directed Demion's Dance towards the creature's neck.

The green sword came in like a vague blur from behind Ashema, packing an incredible amount of speed.

However…

Right before Demion's Dance could decapitate the abomination, a thick scythe blocked it, and the impact unleashed an unsettling metallic ring.

"Don't get impatient…" Ashema chuckled at Skullius.

"I'm not," the Hybrid Luman said as he cocked back the sleeve to his robe. "I was just trying to check if you were actually worth the effort."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!