Chương 3: Getting under the skin I don’t have anymore

Skulking is such an ugly word. Especially when one was a skeleton, and one's shiny dome was on full display. I left a trail of smoke behind me, but we moved quickly, staying close to the ruined houses as we power-walked through the thick mist.

"Dusty…"

"Shh." I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, as he brandished the shovels in front of him. I gently reached out to restrain his terror weapons, then stooped to pick up a stone from the road. I palmed it, then pointed to my eyes and then the rock. Bork nodded hurriedly and watched carefully as I tossed the stone about twenty feet ahead of us.

There was a flash of green light, a blast of what sounded like a lute solo, then a crumping sound which pushed out a weak pressure wave that made our cloaks flare slightly behind us.

"What was that?" hissed Bork.

"Spell form. If a few spells all try and go off at the same time… well, sometimes they have a baby instead."

"What happens if we bump into one? I couldn't even see it!" We started moving again, hurrying along as I scanned around for more threats.

"Depends on the spell," I whispered.

"That one would have blown your skin off and deafened you." We made it another three blocks before I once again gestured for Bork to pause. He pressed his back against the closest wall and began to quietly hyperventilate. I cocked my skull to one side, and tried to ignore the kid's panicked breathing. There… yes. Another quiet fart in the distance.

"Get in here." I shoved open the rotten door next to the kid and pushed him inside. Puggy dove through before I swung it shut. After a few moments of Bork tugging at my sleeve, a shadow passed through the air outside. I watched through a knothole as the amorphous shape drifted along at tree height. Bwystfil Awyr Level 17 STR 39 AGI 17 MAG 12 ARM 39"What is it?"

"Kid, you need to learn to shut the hell up." Once the monster had drifted past, I turned and looked at the frightened child. I'd known it was a bad idea to bring a wet-behind-the-ears boy to a place like this. But the kid needed more pets, and it wasn't as though we could approach the Moulder like normal people. Explaining that we were there to rob some graves and reanimate your dead loved ones was not an excuse that the guards would find acceptable.

I would not be able to convincingly argue that I was an albino anorexic, so my skeletal presence would be problematic, to say the least. This left us to walk the more dangerous roads to get access to those juicy corpses." Bwystfil Awyr. Like a… jellyfish cloud. On the plus side, the tendrils should have cleared the street ahead of us of all the nasties. Let's go." Another half a mile and we'd be through the Shroud and into the Moulder. The monsters there would be a lot less problematic.

Between the pair of us, we should be fine unless we got swarmed, but in the meantime, most of the locals were theoretically out of our league.

"We need to find somewhere along here, somewhere we can stash the bodies we get tonight."

"You want to come back here again?" Bork squeaked. Puggy whined at his feet.

"We'll have to until we can get you a licence, which isn't going to happen until you finish school." Like all civilised societies, bureaucracy dominated in Nadrak. Paperwork and licences were the norm. May the great Goddess Karen be blessed in triplicate.

"I don't want to walk the streets with zombies in tow! I'll get murdered!"

"Keep it down! We'll only need to get them to the city gates one time, and then we can get you set up with a lair out in the wilderness."

"That's even more dangerous than this place!"

"Kid, keep your fucking voice do—""I don't think you need to worry about the volume, chee-chee-chee. You're a bit on the skinny side for my tastes, but the boy looks plump and juicy." We stopped bickering and turned slowly to find a small man with a crooked smile leering at us from the alley we had scurried past.

"Nice hat," I offered.

"Not many people can pull off a tricorn." Always open with a compliment.

"Tell your summon to back off, kid. If we have to fight, I'll make it painful for you instead of quick." He produced a large kitchen knife from the back of his belt and bounced out into the street. He stood rocking from foot to foot, his ragged, stripey trousers fluttering in the wind. No shirt, and his chest was crisscrossed with jagged scars, while those on his arms looked more like bite marks. Human bite marks. The knife was held loosely at his side as he treated us to another rotten-toothed smile.

"Wh-what are you going to do with me?" The shovels hit the cobbles, and Bork scrabbled to draw his wand.

"Whatever it is, he won't be buying you dinner first," I muttered, stepping between the adorable skeleton dog, my putative master, and this threat.

"He'll be on the menu, chee-chee-chee." The annoying laugh alone was grounds to put this guy out of my misery. Jerkbart Larlespire Long Pig Aficionado Level 12 STR 24 AGI 13 MAG 4 ARM 15 This was doable and all part of the plan. But I wouldn't be able to play fair.

"Put the little sword down, and step the fuck away from the snack."

"Look, Jerkbart, how about we talk this through?" I took a step towards him.

"There's no need for this to get ugly. I'm sure we could arrange some kind of a deal? Lure people into the Shroud for you, something like that." A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Dusty!" Bork objected. I put an arm behind my back and waggled my fingers at him. I had no idea how to make "shut the hell up" gestures with bony digits that I couldn't see, but I did my best.

"Hmm. Meat today, or maybe meat tomorrow. I think you'll forgive me if I just take what's already on my plate."

"You're a cannibal?" Bork squeaked. He must be at least sixteen; he couldn't have unlocked his class if he weren't, but his voice kept breaking like a thirteen-year-old.

"Among other things. Jerkbart Larlespire, cannibal, cook, soldier of fortune." He swept his hat off and flourished a bow. I took the opportunity to move another step closer. He couldn't know what mine and the kid's classes and levels were. I got the Identify skill as part of the job, but it was a rare power to have inherently. Most people had to use crafted items, monocols usually, or spells to get access to it.

The sword would make me look like a standard warrior minion, and he had to assume we were relatively tough. People who weren't decently strong didn't dare to wander about in the Shroud unless they could cheat. Perfect hunting ground for someone like me who was looking to get some solid XP and Bone Matter early on. Sure, I was massively outclassed by this numpty, but I'd been around the block a few times and dealt with worse. Ending this monster in human skin would be a kindness for the rest of the citizenry.

Assuming I didn't accidentally get the kid killed in the process… again, the temptation, the knowledge that if Bork bought the farm, I'd be back to steaks and beers.

"Not another step!" He pointed the knife at me, and I tried to give him a reassuring smile. Stupid bony face with no bloody facial expressions. I held up my hands, blade pointed at the sky. I'd had a thing for the gladius ever since my thirteenth life, where I'd had to play mentor to an isekai'd Roman general. Fun times; Clavius had been a real villain.

"Drop the pig-sticker." His voice was cold and flat; the manic note from before was gone. I failed to smile again, or did I? I supposed I was stuck with a permanent rictus grin. I shifted my grip on the gladius slightly, nestling the pommel into the base of my hand as I slowly lowered it down in front of me. He gave me another yellow smile, and as the gladius was aligned with his body, at about waist height, I threw him a bone.

Bone Throwing launched the sword along at groin height faster than I could have thrown it with my puny starting strength stat. It flew like a bolt of pure white to slam into Jerkbart just below the belt, an unhappy accident for him. I'd been aiming for his guts, but this was an acceptable miss. Bork's shriek competed in pitch with Jerkbart's suddenly shrill voice. I ignored the kid and charged. The clatter of four long strides brought me in close, and I grabbed his knife arm with my left hand.

Those sharpened fingertips came into their own, and I plunged my digits through his skin. As soon as they touched bone, Boneshaping kicked in, and his forearm began to twist unnaturally as the bones softened at my touch. His own left hand stopped scrabbling at the sword impaling his favourite appendage and slammed into my skull. He was stronger than me, considerably stronger than the human norm with his stats.

I saw stars for a second, but my other hand was already heading for its final destination, and the blow wasn't enough to throw me off target. They say the way to a man's heart lies through his stomach. In light of this particular man's preference in meat products, coupled with my own total lack of flesh, you'd think we wouldn't be a good match. But sharpened bony fingers reached upwards through his guts. My wrist grazed against his ribs, and I immediately started using Boneshaping there as well.

His own bones began to contract around his lungs, causing him to gasp his last breath. Then my probing fingers found his heart, and I squeezed. You have killed a level 12 Long Pig Aficionado! Bonus XP granted due to level difference! Bonus XP granted for being a sneaky, mean-spirited bastard! XP gained: 523! You levelled up X10! You now have: 2 new skills to select! 20 stat points to allocate! 10 skill points available! Nice. Not a baby anymore.

It was a great first kill, but it would be hard to replicate this kind of growth again. Someone at level one hundred would be untouchable to a level ten, even if I fought dirty. Good to get confirmation this was one of those worlds where IMPS was a sadistic asshole; it was perfect for villainy. I lowered Jerkbart to the ground but didn't fully withdraw my hand. I grabbed hold of the bottom of his rib cage and heaved him back up like a hairy sports bag.

"You… You're a monster!"

"No shit, kid. What did you think a necromancer was going to get with a summoning ritual?"

"B-b-but you killed him!" Bork was shivering, his knobbly knees knocking together.

"He was going to eat you and use me to make stock. He was one of those cannibals you were worrying about. Can you open the door to that hovel over there, please?" Bork moved jerkily, his hand slapped into the door at first, and it took him two tries to get the handle to work. Inside, the only downstairs room was dank, the walls covered in moss. Moonlight came in through the many holes in the roof. A ladder led up to a loft area which would have been used for sleeping.

It was missing rungs, and the attic space looked as rotten as the ground floor. Dropping my burden, I yanked out my sword to check the edge. Undamaged. Jolly good. Looking at my blood-covered hand for a moment, I sighed before pushing the door shut. I knew exactly how to spend my points; this wasn't my first rodeo. The thrill of that first power-up, when it's easy and the XP requirements haven't gotten insane yet, it always set my blood to pumping and my heart beating faster…

except this time I lacked both of those things. Local Class Bonecaster General Level 10 STR 15 AGI 10 MAG 26 ARM 16 XP 23/100 Bone Matter: 74/85 Skills: Boneshaping, 3/10 The hardest Bone grows soft and malleable in your grasp. Level 3: Faster shaping. Bone Throwing, 2/10 Launch spears of Bone to impale your enemies. Give it to them hard! Calcify, 6/10 Accrue more Bone Matter over time. Used to heal and create ammunition for Bone Throwing. Level 3: Increased generation rate. Level 6: Bone refinement.

Thankfully IMPS had one small benefit: it respected its users' time. If a skill didn't change, it would leave them out of status updates unless I asked for a full check. An odd consideration from a system with a black sense of humour, but it held true in every verse. I had bumped strength and agility up to round numbers, then put four points into magic to improve my spell power. The remaining ten points went into Bone Matter to increase the reservoir that served as both raw materials and health for this body.

For skill points, I needed to get Calcify to ten as fast as possible for the same reason. It made my Bone Matter regenerate more quickly. Level ten was also the point where it would prompt a skill evolution roll. With the level six upgrade, I would gradually improve the quality of my bones as well, slowly increasing my armour stat passively, and making my crafted bone weapons more effective.

The three levels in Boneshaping were only to save some time in my immediate future, because I had another way to boost my armour stat, much more quickly than Calcify, and Bork wasn't going to like it. Levelling would be much harder going forward; every ten levels doubled the XP required per level, which was why most people in Nadrak wouldn't be much higher than level ten outside of trained soldiers, adventurers and a handful of the nobility.

The need to kill monsters or people to gain XP also put a crimp in most people's ability to level. Sociopathy and psychopathy were always rewarded on system worlds, which had always struck me as strange. Carefully avoiding the attention of those powerhouses was at the top of my priorities. Bork was crouched down, petting Puggy, pointedly not looking in my direction. Probably for the best, this next part was gonna be a tiny bit gross.

My hand slid back into the wound I'd made on Jerkbart, grasped a rib, and I began to absorb the cannibal's bones. A cigar appeared between my teeth as I pulled up my skill selection screen, and for the first time since I got here, my permanent grin represented my feelings.