Its Humillating.

  As a King, he should not be treated like this. All he wanted was for the corpse of his wife to be given proper respect. As a fallen enemy, shouldn’t he at least be given such honor?

  But despite how horribly he was threatened… This was nothing compared to what the [Necromancer] would do to him. He would be killed, burned with the flames of the Undead.

  The King shivered despite his icy body. He gripped the prison cell tightly. Yes, prison cell. He had been put in a cell because he did not reveal the location of ancient corpses. Why should he remember them? He had insisted that he forgot, but that Thiefmaster… That annoyingly beautiful red Tiefling. She threw him into this cell without a second glance!

  Her goons just did whatever she commanded without questioning her actions. Such.. such… Unacceptable!

  He needed to teach them a lesson, one that at the very least would give him the respect he deserved.

  “You!” the King snapped at a guard's Tiefling, five of them.

  They regarded him with bored eyes and leaned on their spears, talking to each other in a whisper.

  “I said you! When I regard you, then you answer with proper mannerism!”

  “The ice-man talking nonsense again,” one of them said.

  “Is it strange to say that I miss the drow? They do not talk at least.” Another one said.

  Preposterous! Comparing him to… to Drow?

  “I demand to speak with your leader! Immediately! This is merely a misunderstanding.”

  “Our Thiefmaster had made it clear that you will be freed by day's end, just tough it out, King.”

  “I will not accept this treatment!” the King bristled, but was ignored once again.

  Oh, fine then.

  Cold sped into his palm, and blue frost began to creep around the cells. In one push, he could make this cell explode like glass and kill these five guards.

  He should have done it and taught them proper respect.

  As he was about to do so, a cold gaze from the Tiefling pierced his body.

  The King stiffened. Something was not right.

  He watched intently. He watched how the Tieflings' legs were all pointed in the direction of the prison’s exit. On second look, their whole body language… it was like they been expecting something to happen.

  Like they were about to escape.

  Was this…

  “Was this on purpose?” the King laughed, and the silence of the Tieflings was answer enough. The King let the prisoner’s cell go and staggered into the back wall. “She was looking for a reason to kill me then?”

  No answer came, and that angered him further.

  “Tell me, has this happened before? Killing someone by trickery such as this?”

  “Our Thiefmaster will do what is necessary for the entire Tiefling,” was the only answer he could get.

  The five guards left his gaze, and soon a door closed, leaving the King alone.

  He chuckled. His legs weakened, and the King fell on his knees while still holding the cell.

  “My Queen,” tear slackened his icy cheek. “Why are you not here with me?”

  --

  “Now this is beautiful.” Slea’s mouth gaped open, and she would hop up and down at the sheer beauty of the altar and the lone island inside this strange cave, had it not for the slippery, rough surface they were standing on.

  “I know there was a different path between depth, but not like this,” Wendy said beside her.

  “Careful crossing the bridge, they’re slippery. I almost fell back then,” Jack said, motioning the group of a hundred to stream in. “The Integrators will go first! Bring their corpses here!”

  Slea still held her gaze on the altar. On its clear rock, which was polished by the waterfall behind it. The symbol of the moon gleamed faintly with silver light, and a sacrificial stone had droplets of water, making it glimmer in strange lunar light.

  Reki stepped forward and turned on them, almost slipping in the process.

  “This again, Reki?” Noa groaned.

  “Don’t give me that attitude,” he sighed. “Remember, don’t just take an offer from god without thinking. Unless you want to make a deal with gods and be trapped in one like Suna.”

  “In Suna's case, it works well, though,” Noa said. “I heard that cloak saved him a lot.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Yes, and my life too,” Min said beside her.

  “Still—”

  “Come on, Reki, just move. There, our corpses have arrived,” Noa lightly pushed Reki forward as two Tieflings carted the corpses.

  The creak of the wheel followed, and Slea finally could see the corpse of the ice queen. It was a tougher battle than she liked to admit. The queen had made a mistake, a fatal one, and that was her attempt to wrap up the battle fast.

  Truth was, she did not hate the queen. She fought, and she lost, then she died. There was no point in hating death. What vexed Slea for all this time was the King's reaction, acting as if this were not a fair fight, one that he recommended and arranged.

  He touched the queen’s cheek with the back of her palm. Slea let out a small gasp. She was cold, still unbelievably so. The corpses were wrapped in a warm mantle, revealing only the queen’s pudgy face.

  “Can I go first?” Slea asked the integrators. They shouldn’t take long; there were hundreds of Tieflings waiting behind them.

  “Of course,” Jack said. “Here, let me help cart this.”

  Slea crossed the stone bridge, one hand on the railing and the other pulling the wagon. When they were about to cross into the island, Jack stopped, and he wished Slea good luck.

  Now, having a proper footing, she wheeled the cart further. Her eyes were transfixed upon the altar. Its gleaming reflection heated her cheek and delivered a sudden alien warmth that calmed her, as if telling her to relax.

  The Lunar symbol etched deep into the crystal, watching her intently as Slea heaved up the queen's corpses and laid her atop the sacrificial stone.

  She stepped back, wondering what she should do now.

  Suna had said—

  Motes of blue and red shone upon the Queen’s corpses. Her skin began to be taken away, carried by light into the symbol of the crescent moon. It was like a yellow eye staring at Slea intently as it was being fed upon the Queen’s soul.

  Would there be a god? Slea had prepared what to say should she meet one. But, silently, she wished to be like Jack, who had only one choice.

  [Frost-Fire Crown] [Mystic]—Ice and fire are a clashing nature. Two that by any normalcy cannot be brought together; however, those who bear the crown of Frost-Fire shall receive such honor: A chance to control a cold fire of Frost.

  Can you see this? Hm? You can. Good. Now, you owe me. Integrator, I need you to save me, along with people. We're trapped and require someone strong. So, when you finish your Tutorial, you WILL came to us. Or...

  --

  --

  The [Necromancer] was a busy man.

  Lumien has little care for drivel. He hated it, which was why, when his generals stopped him from crossing his hallway into his labs, it was all the more vexing.

  Beneath the grand vaulted room was a modest hall with paintings lining the wall. Lumien always liked these paintings.

  No, that is not true.

  Delia loved them. Not him.

  Every time he insisted on her visiting, the first thing she did was to take her time to cross this hallway, so that she could slowly gaze upon the paintings. To Lumien, they were just a doddle formed into something. He had wanted to take it down, but the mere curiosity in Delia’s eyes kept him from doing so. When she passed on to her next life, he did not have any intent to remove them. Almost strangely, having them up was like having her walk with him into his obsession.

  “My Lord,” the voice of Leyrin greeted. The [Undead Standard Bearer] always had that green flag slung behind her like some trophy.

  [Undead Standard Bearer—Level 68]

  “My Lord.”

  “My Lord.”

  [Undead Legion Commanded—Level 67]

  [Undead Double Archer—Level 66]

  The other two greeted him. Soras, whose skill was second only to Landfred, but ‘Second’ only means a huge gap, which was why Soras did not have the title of the god as his dear knight did.

  Then Mea, the archer. Another failure. He had tried to create an archer that could fire while holding bows in both hands, and in a way, Lumien and the doctor were successful, but the result was way too underwhelming.

  Lumien had to battle his sigh as he crossed the hallway into a three-way intersection where both left and right ended in an open balcony where two giants and one dragon peered in to watch him.

  [Undead Dragon—Level 65]

  “Good day to you, My Lord,” the dragon bowed, bristling loudly and letting out a wave of heat even from its closed mouth.

  Such horrible control. Ufred the Dragon might not do after all. He had to complete his ultimate creation, but watching the failure of his dragon was starting to irk him.

  “My Lord! Another research?” The hulk asked from the other side of the balcony loudly, making his voice echo through the hallway.

  “My lord is sure diligent!” Another voice chirped in—the Hulk brother whose not losing in body size.

  [Undead Axe Hulk—Level 66]

  [Undead Collosi—Level 66]

  “I am,” Lumien merely said, shrugging off his robe so they did not touch his skin. He ran his hand through his green hair, making sure it stood up. He always likes having his hair heavy right in the middle of his head; it was like having it pressed on the part of his brain that always hurts.

  Despite his annoyance at being kept waiting, Lumien could not contain his excitement, so he said:

  “I think we ought to nail it soon, I and the Doctor. We will create the Undead God Half-Dragon.”

  A silence drifted, and Lumien had to ground his teeth. Delia always gave a soft laugh and teased him when he shared his greatest project with her. But, not his generals, they judged him with those Undead’s eyes he had created for them. Why couldn’t they be happy with him? For his project.

  “My lord,” as always, Leyrin spoke first. It was not a coincidence that the Standard Bearer was the one who knelt right in front of his laboratory door. “Something is in the air. When I was near the Pyre-gate, a wave of power seeped into me. Something had happened out there, my Lord, in second-depth.”

  “Leyrin, to what is the point of this report? You knew very well that if I forcefully open the gate, then it will render me powerless for a time.”

  “To which we discourage you from doing!” Leyrin spoke quickly to deny it. “But, my lord, please at least try to contact Landfred.”

  “Bah,” he spat down, smearing it across with his boot. “Landfred can beg for my forgiveness once he is done with that king of his!”

  “My Lord—”

  “My Lord!” the dragon voice boomed. Lumien winced, wondering if he should just mow down his flame onto this damned creature. “This Half-Dragon project of yours. Why should you do it? Was I not enough?”

  There was something comical about a dragon, especially one that had grown to Ulfred’s size, being so… attached to him? This was the first failure; a dragon should be beyond a king, a selfish creature. Ulfred was merely a failure, and the Doctor had gathered Data to create a proper dragon, which he could not wait to execute on.

  “Clearly, you’re not Ulfred. Must you ask a question to which the answer was so obvious?”

  The Dragon breathed chortle, and slowly he removed his snout from the house, and at once a proper air wafted in, to which Lumien was grateful. The dragon’s wings flapped, sending more air in, and Lumien shook his head.

  “My Lord,” this time, Soras—the Legion Commander said. He usually only spoke when something was deep inside his mind, and always said so honestly and frankly. “Your desire pushes you again. The obsession the system planted in you, you're falling into it again.”

  “I never once beat it, Soras.” Lumien merely said. Leyrin held her ground before bowing deeply and moving away from Lumien’s path. His hand slowly turned the knob, then he said. “Do whatever you’d like. Just don’t interfere with my research.”