4 Chapter 4: Mage and Bone Horse (Revised)_1
Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation
Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
Little Zombie, under Ange’s protection, thrived and safely passed his infancy, becoming a Tough Skin Zombie.
This is the most basic level of a zombie, on the same level as the skeletal bones, but because of the layer of flesh, it has higher defensive power and greater fighting ability than the skeletal bones.
So one day, Little Zombie dragged a skeleton back to the pit and pushed it in front of Ange.
Is this for me? Ange tilted his head.
Little Zombie nodded and pushed the skull towards Ange.
Ange shook his head, the soul strength of the skeleton bones was too weak, devouring it might not be as efficient as soaking in the Resting Wind to enhance the strength.
Little Zombie drooped his head, disheartened, and dragged the skeleton away. Yet, after that, all the skeletons nearby were doomed, and none escaped the brutality of Little Zombie.
When he stumbled upon a White Skeleton that was too powerful, he hid back in Ange’s territory, a thirty-meter radius area which even a White Skeleton dared not venture into.
Although there was now an actively hunting Little Zombie in the vicinity, it didn’t affect the local ecosystem. The vacant area was quickly filled up by skeletons wandering from other places. The skeletons discarded by Little Zombie, under a night’s caress of the Resting Wind, could potentially give birth to new souls.
This was the eternal cycle of the undead. The only change might be the soul strength of Ange and Little Zombie.
If nothing else happened, Ange might just stay in the pit forever, just like he had been farming for over a thousand years on the farm. However, an unexpected change occurred. One day, Little Zombie rushed back to the pit in panic, nudged Ange and pointed frantically outside.
There was a deep wound on Little Zombie’s face, cut by something unknown.
Ange peeked outside, only to see a leading Ashbone Skeleton with about twenty lower-level skeletons marching into his territory.
Being an Ashbone Skeleton himself, Ange didn’t have an advantage over it in terms of their level, and the lower-level skeletons under its command also disregarded this level suppression.
Did Little Zombie stir up a skeleton nest?
Without a second thought, Ange took Little Zombie and ran out of the pit, thinking he might not be able to defeat the Ashbone Skeleton and its twenty or so followers of the same level.
They ran ahead, with the Ashbone Skeleton leading the chase from behind. After a chase of two or three kilometers, the Ashbone Skeleton finally gave up reluctantly.
“What did you do?” Temporarily safe, Ange heaved a sigh and asked through his soul.
Little Zombie stared blankly at Ange, unable to answer Ange’s question.
Alright, Ange gave up. His species back on the farm were like this, whenever you asked them a question, they would just stare at you blankly. Little Zombie was relatively good; knowing to run back and alert him when pursued….
Wait, If Little Zombie didn’t run back, that Ashbone Skeleton would just chase him alone, why would it involve him?
I almost died because of you… Ange gave his head a knock.
Because of the trouble stirred by Little Zombie, Ange was expelled from the pit he had occupied for months. As night was falling, they urgently needed to find a place to shelter from the wind.
It was too late to go back. Ange dug a hole on the spot and hid in it with Little Zombie. Since the pit was shallow, they even had to shovel the nearby dirt and bury themselves under it.
The next day, as soon as the wind stopped, Ange crawled out and dug another hole a few meters away and threw Little Zombie into it. He decided not to let Little Zombie hide in his pit anymore, lest he be implicated in future troubles.
However, that evening, just as the wind started blowing, a head peeked over the edge of his pit. Seeing that Ange made no move to chase it away, it slid in.
The next day Ange would throw it out, and it would run back again in the evening, like it was a game.
Only after Ange dug a tunnel between the two pits did the game finally stop, because whenever it ran over, Ange would kick it into the tunnel and let it crawl back by itself.
Ange was an easygoing skeleton. He was able to farm for over a thousand years without being directed by someone else, and now that he was driven out of his safe pit, he didn’t mind, once again making his new pit bigger and safer, soaked in the Resting Wind within the pit every day.
Little Zombie was more active than him. The moment the wind stopped each day, he would run outside. The low-level skeletons nearby fell into his clutches again, and his soul grew non-stop amidst the troubles.
Ange had initially thought today would be like any other day, but not long after the wind started, he heard footsteps. Soon, a person slid into the pit.
This was a human, wrapped in a cloak, looked to be in his forties, with a weather-beaten face. He held a finely crafted magic wand, robust magic power surging from his body. He was a human mage.
Upon spotting Ange in the lair, the human mage was surprised. “A skeleton? How did it get up the slope? Ah, sorry for disturbing, but could I take shelter from the wind here?”
The mage asked casually, for it was widely known that a skeleton must reach gold level to possess intellect.
The common ones acted more instinctively, attacking when they perceive a threat. Perhaps this very skeleton in front of him would pounce the very next moment.
However, a human mage daring enough to walk in the Land of Death would naturally not view a mere Ashbone Skeleton as a threat. He removed his hood nonchalantly and gestured outside.
A massive skull leaned into the pit, squeezing every bit of the remaining space. It was a Bone Horse, its hollow eye sockets shimmering with the soul fire’s eerie blue glow.
The pit was small, barely able to accommodate a skeleton, a human, and a Bone Horse’s head without room to turn. Ange squeezed into the passage leading to another pit, blocking the exit to offer more space.
Why would a human mage appear here when the Resting Wind was rampant? Wasn’t the Resting Wind affecting him? Even if it didn’t, how did his Bone Horse manage to endure it?
Ange learned the answer soon enough.
The mage first gave him a curious glance to assure that the skeleton held no intention to attack. Then, he laid a hand on the Bone Horse’s head. Black smoke rose from his palm, slipping into the Bone Horse through its hollow eyes and nostrils.
As the black smoke passed through, the color of the Bone Horse’s bones gradually faded. Only then did Ange notice the bones had been corroded by the Resting Wind, traces of decay on the surface.
The Resting Wind had a strange mechanism. If a skeleton had a soul, the wind would erode it. But for a soulless skeleton, it offered protection, slowing down decay or even nurturing new Soul Fire to birth a new skeleton.
The Bone Horse had Soul Fire, hence the corrosion, yet the signs of corrosion gradually faded under the black smoke’s soothing touch.
Ange started to understand why the Bone Horse could traverse under the Resting Wind. It seemed that the human mage had been continuously healing it.
Still, this was extremely draining on the mage’s magic power. After the Bone Horse’s head was enveloped in black smoke, the mage seemed to realize something, slapping his forehead, and groaned, “Stupid me.”
The mage reached out, twisted off the Bone Horse’s skull. The Soul Fire resided in the skeleton’s skull, so once it was removed, the remains outside the pit lost the soul fire, preventing the Resting Wind from causing any harm.
Holding the Bone Horse’s skull, the human mage chuckled at Ange apologetically, “Forgot the time while travelling. We’d have been killed by this evil wind if not for your pit. By the way, how did you get up this slope? This isn’t your skeletons’ place. All these broken stones make it tough to dig pits.”
Ange stared at the mage expressionlessly, not speaking. This place isn’t for skeletons?
Upon reflection, it seemed indeed so. The landscape rose, and there were no skeletons around. Little Zombies had to get to the plain at the bottom of the slope to find other skeletons to huff and puff.
Seeing him dumbfounded, the mage laughed, “Don’t mind me. You kind of lose your language skills after being in an uninhabited place for far too long, so I try to start a conversation with anyone I bump into.”
Regardless of Ange’s response, the mage kept talking as if mumbling to himself:
“This road has become more and more difficult to navigate. Do you know what it used to be called? The Gold Road, the Grain Road, the Silk Road. The basin below was the transfer station for the Undead Empire, and now, you little skeletons have claimed it.”
“Business has become harder along this road ever since the Undead Empire disappeared. According to past records, setting up a small shop on the road would have been extremely lucrative. Nothing like now where I have to travel for half a month might not even earn enough for two month’s food provisions. I envy you, no need to eat or drink, it’s only the undead like you that can survive here.”
“If only we could activate the teleportation channel. The grains from the Undead Empire could be sold here, and stuff from here could be sold there, business flourishes, and everyone prospers. By the way, you undead do not need to eat. Why do you produce so much food?”
“Ah, I forgot again, not all undead belong to the Undead Empire. Nearly a thousand years have passed; I’m guessing all the skeletons from the Undead Empire are extinct.”
The mage treated Ange like a hole in a tree and didn’t expect a response. He babbled on and on; though Ange did not understand much, he got the last two paragraphs.
Why are undead creatures, who do not need to eat, producing so much food? It’s because farming skeletons like Ange grew those crops.
At the end of his ramblings, the mage sighed heavily, “The underground city is facing another crisis. If we can’t find a new food source, I’m afraid many people will starve. I hope we can activate the teleportation channel this time, I hope the Undead Empire still exists.”
After his wishful ramblings, the mage glanced at the quietly sitting Ange, gave a self-deprecating smile, pulled his hood back on, and slowly drifted into sleep.
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