Chương 3: Reemployed (Derogatory)

[Travis Binder: Cause of death - Beheading] [Analyzing Final Moments…] [Observed: Routine disregard for life. Repeated demands for murder from subordinates. Extreme Masochism. Extremely bad vibes.] [Location of Death: Dungeon of the Carrion King.] [Class Selected: Necromancer.] [! WARNING: Final Reincarnation Cycle Reached!] Stick sat in front of me, older than ever. His long gray hair reached well past his shoulders, and his eyebrows tufted far enough out to cover his eyes.

In front of him, our chessboard, each piece carved with precision from precious stone. He smiled.

"I have been practicing. I think I may have you this time, my lord." I counted the skulls around me. Six. My limit. No more retries. I was destined for this life after all. Blood stained the carved stone floor from my previous beheading. giving the throne room quite the vampiric impression. It matched my class, at least. Necromancer. I shivered. I should have known that kicking the goblin's ass in chess for a few hours, only to let him win before killing me wouldn't be enough to twist the tides of fate.

But I had been out of ideas. I shook my head.

"Not this time, Stick. I think I need a moment." He climbed to his feet.

"My lord, are you okay?" The words took me out of my stupor. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My body had accepted my fate before my mind had. I wiped them away.

"Fine. Fine. Just... having a lot of feelings right now." Stick nodded, his eyelids heavy, his steps forward lethargic as he reached for the black blade, almost too heavy for him to carry.

"I understand. My wife, this last winter…Sorry—you don't care about that. I will make this death swift." He swung the blade before I could speak. I scrambled to my feet, leaping to the side as the sword clanged off the throne.

"Fuck! No! Wait!" Stick dropped the blade, covering his face and trembling. It clattered against the stone floor.

"I am so sorry! I misunderstood!"

"No more killing, please!" I said, taking heavy breaths. The goblin's jaw dropped, revealing all his razor-sharp teeth. He fell to his knees, years of exhaustion clearing in an instant.

"My lord! Feaster of Carrion! Lord of the Dark! Is this the final reincarnation?"

"For better or worse, yes." I swallowed.

"And, uh, I'm sorry to hear about your wife. I only met her that once but…" Stick looked at me, teary-eyed.

"That you think of her at all brings great peace to my heart. Our daughter will be very excited to meet you after all this time." He cleared this throat.

"We must alert the rest of the clan at once. I knew this day was near, but I did not know it would come so soon. A few more generations, maybe, but..." The goblin's eyes widened, and he bounded up to his feet.

"Oh my. What am I doing? Where is my respect? Your blade, my lord. Kept safe for the last hundred years until I just dropped it just now." I took it without hesitation. A knowing filled me, and the same text that appeared during each reincarnation filled my vision. A status screen. [Superior Artifact Attuned] [The Carrion Blade] [Soul Cleave]: The blade drinks deep. Each kill by the Carrion Blade harvests the victim's soul, forever binding them to your will.

No wonder the sword had changed so much after all this time. Stick had been feeding it my soul each time he killed me. The goblin bowed and took a lantern from its post.

"Now come. The clan awaits your return. Not all are believers, nor are most very excited after the shed incident, but once they meet you, they will see!" Despite his age, Stick practically ran down the hallway in his excitement. I followed close behind, taking one last look at the room. Over 70 years had passed between my reincarnations—while only a few hours had passed for me. I would miss it. We marched and climbed up the familiar cave system. I stretched, rolling my shoulders back and gripping the wicked sword.

How much did it weigh? Stick carried it around as if it was a great burden, but in my hands it was perfectly balanced, and as light as a feather. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. The biggest change came from when I looked inward. An inner strength coursed through me, flowing through me like air filled my lungs. A status screen appeared in my vision. [Travis Binder] [Necromancer] Abilities: [Harvest]: Draw lifeforce into your core. Harvest.

The word replayed in my mind, and activated. Energy coursed through me—centralizing in my core and expanding out to the palm of my hand, gathering there until it withered away. Perhaps I'd expected more from being called a Necromancer. Or maybe my expectations were misguided. I'd expected a "Summon Skeleton" ability to start out with, but draining lifeforce was a reasonable starting point. A chill coursed down my spine. Would that involve killing someone? I took a deep breath. I didn't have to be evil.

Even if I held an evil sword, an evil class, and a loyal cult of goblins.

"So, where are we headed?" I asked as we rounded another bend of the rocky cave.

"To the village," Stick said.

"Tomorrow we will venture deeper into the dungeon to reconnect you with your core. But today, as you foretold, a message must be sent out to the others. The world is to know that the Carrion King returns." Daylight poured through the cavern ahead, and Stick set the lantern on the ground, smiling.

"At last! My old knees groan." Outside, several tiny green figures stood in wait.

"Brothers and sisters!" Stick shouted.

"I bring you the final form of the Carrion King!" The goblins' eyes widened, and they each shared a double take with each other.

"This is him?" one said.

"Hey guys," I said, taking a deep breath.

"How's it going?" Stick waved down at them.

"Please! Contain your excitement, and bring me my staff!" One handed him a long, wooden staff, peaked with a red gem. Stick took it, leaning against it for support.

"We must bring him back to the clan at once. All shall meet the one we have been waiting for!"

"How far away is this, uh, clan of yours?" I asked.

"Just over the hill," Stick said.

"Though I must warn you: the clan has fallen on difficult times over the last several years. Much peace has spread since your last return. It is a shame that you choose now to return, and not when we most needed you." We marched forward into the woods, leaving the hills and cave far behind. The sun shone bright above us, the summer heat warming my long cold skin. A bead of sweat dripped from my brow. A bush rustled ahead. Stick paused dead in his tracks and raised his hand.

I stumbled into him, almost tripping over the three-foot nothing goblin.

"Stop. Do you hear that?" I frowned. Leaves crackled; a branch popped.

"What is it?" I asked. From the looks on their faces, it could have been anything. A bear? A dragon? Another evil rabbit? One goblin scowled.

"Human. I smell a horse." A human! I took a deep, heavy breath. Maybe there was a way out of this after all. If I could get away from the goblins and find a place amongst civilized society…

"I can handle it," I said with my entire chest.

"Are you sure, Carrion King? Please, let us handle this! We may still sneak around them, or wait for them to pass."

"Please, I insist," I said, not giving them a chance to debate further. Their eyes followed me as I trudged closer to the approaching horseman. The man hummed a familiar tune, one I couldn't quite place. The melody raised and lowered, evoking a song of something utterly nostalgic. I followed the music and stepped into the clearing, where a bearded man in a colorful cloak moseyed down a long and winding dirt road. The horse spotted me first, rearing and taking a few steps back.

The man laughed, patting the horse's head.

"Oh, calm down, my old friend." He grinned down at me.

"Hello there, stranger. Sorry, you took us off guard. I wasn't expecting to see another human so far out here."

"Same!" I laughed, approaching him.

"I'm new to these parts, actually, and am a bit lost. Where do you come from?" He tossed me a bewildered look and laughed.

"Lost?" Even his laughter was musical. All the anxiety of the last few hours washed away. A lute hung across his back.

"We are way out in the wilds... the closest Guild settlement is a few days away by horse. Monsters crawl in these hills, you know. Not a safe place to be lost in at all! It's a good thing you stumbled across me! My name is Raymond, and I roam these hills looking for a lost song."

"Yeah, I uh..." How to approach this? I knew nothing about this world. Nothing about these people. Perhaps honesty was the best approach.

"I had several head injuries, actually. I have no idea what is going on." He frowned and climbed off his horse. He reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a bottle filled with red liquid.

"I have a minor health potion I could spare you. Perhaps it'll get your memory back in line?" Health potions, eh? I took the bottle from him and spun the viscous red liquid around. Since I wasn't actually injured, taking it from the man felt like my first genuine act of evil. I would need not to make it a habit. I uncorked the bottle and gave it a whiff. Cinnamon… strawberry… melon? Interesting. I threw back the potion, each drop of the liquid coating my tongue and flooding me with energy.

Like a delicious shot of DayQuil mixed with Red Bull.

"Wow. This was great stuff."

"I'm glad you liked it! How's your head?"

"I haven't had any complaints—""GUH!" An arrow appeared in the man's throat, sending a spray of blood over me. He took a lunging step forward, fading eyes locking onto the remaining drops of the potion. He clattered to the ground, lifeless. A soft blue glow left his mouth as he deflated, and my Harvest ability twisted, urged to be used. I stuffed the desire down, jaw wide open in shock. His horse screamed and charged off, leaving me flabbergasted and alone. Stick appeared through the bush with the other goblins.

"A clever plan, my lord. Your distraction made for an excellent shot. And to steal his healing potion before he could drink it! You are just as devious as the stories made you out to be!" I whimpered.