Mat stared at the level 3 undead with a burning intensity, fuelled by his new found confidence in his ability to defeat it. He didn't know where it came, but he felt like he could do it, he didn't know how. He just felt it.
It was like looking at a boulder problem that all your mates have been failing at for the past five attempts, but then you take a look at it, and you see the perfect beta in a moment, and you go for it, and you just flash it like the easiest thing in the world. That's what he was feeling right now. But he didn't rush, the stare down was mutual; this particular undead was too careful for being undead. "Isn't your whole thing being about death? Why are you cautious about getting beaten, aye?" he asked the little piece of bones in front him.
It screeched at his words, like it had been triggered. It rushed towards, and swiped at his head with both its hands, like they were claws.
Mat dodged to his left, and it barely missed him, even though it tried changing its direction mid attack. There was no doubting it, this motherfucker was too strong, he'd have to give it all.
Mat decided to take advantage of this little opening he had, and he rushed at undead with a heavy, but slow swing of his sword. The undead stepped back the last moment, and the sword scratched only its wrist.
It screeched again in what seemed to be pain, and while his sword was down, Mat saw a yellowish white fist of bones closing up on his vision, until it went black and he found himself flying back two feet.
It was an odd experience.. to be hit so hard to fly back, but he could feel only slight pain on his face. He didn't know if it was because he was just bones, or the hit was so hard that it reset his dead brain. He just hoped it was the former, and pushed himself up on his hands, to look at his assailant.
It took two more steps towards him, and swiped at his face again, with its claw like bony hands, and this time all Mat could do was cross his hands to defend himself. He had already lost the sword from when he was punched square on the jaw. He didn't even know if his jaw was in the right place anymore.
He tried pushing himself back, and put distance between himself and the undead, but it kept attacking him relentlessly, like there was no stopping it.
The more he hits he took, the more everything got hazy. He couldn't feel pain, but it seemed like the more he was getting damaged, the more his senses were going haywire, almost like he was dying without feeling any pain. The world was getting darker for him, and he didn't want it. Any of it.
He didn't wanna die again, not this badly. At least the last time he died, he was doing something he loved, he didn't want it to be worse than that this time. He did his best to put any distance he could between himself and the undead, but that fucker seemed almost too eager to want to kill him.
As things got darker, and hazier, and his senses got crazy, Mat finally felt a pain throughout his body, and he couldn't help himself. He screamed, and he screamed loud, it didn't matter to him that it sounded just like the undead's screech, but a lower pitch.. he just screamed.
He screamed his heart out in pain.. and something happened. The same heat he had felt multiple times by now, it surged through him again. It wasn't just hot anymore though, he felt like he was burning, like he was set on fire, and as the heat enveloped his body, it surged towards the crossed hands in front of his face, taking brunt of the undead's attacks.
An explosion resounded, and as he saw, the undead who was right in front of him suddenly flew away like a rag doll covered in cyan flames intermixed with tiny wisps of black.
It landed 3 meters away and when he saw it, he was astounded to see it burning bright into ash and disappearing.. somehow he had killed it. His first kill, although it was an undead. He didn't know how to feel about it. He decided to go with good, that he didn't have to kill a person.
Mat slowly stood up, and walked toward the place where the undead had just landed before disappearing. It was very intriguing, to see a being so stuck to this world suddenly disappearing into nothing.
"My first fight with an easy mob, and it's such a struggle that I almost died."
Vision and clarity slowly returned to him after the fight, and he felt embarrassed that his first battle was such a shameful affair.
He berated himself, and gathered his bearings.
["Status"]
He said aloud to see if there was any change to his stats..
+++
Mordain Noxleigh
[First of the Graveborn]
Age: 10 (154)
Level 1 Undead [Mage]
VIT: 1
STR: 4.0 → 5.0
AGI: 8
INT: 9
MAG: 7 → 10
+++
Indeed, so he had actually levelled up.. that was a very interesting update, his vitality had increased somehow.. he shall think about it later. For now, he wanted to see what actually happened when he killed it, the undead. What happened then..
['Skills']
+++
[Passive Skills]
Undead Mana: Ability to use undead mana.
[Active Skill]
Mana Torch: Ability to use mana to generate a source of light.
Undead Flame: Ability to use fire as an offensive element using magic.
Noxfire: Mythical flame of the house Noxleigh, utilisable at the cost of mana.
+++
Now that was some news. So his hypothesis was verified, the skill list only showed things that he knew he could use, or has tried using, even if he knows using them. That meant there was probably a lot more he would be able to do, if he could find a way to learn those things. Or, he could even try innovating some himself.
What was even more interesting though, was the third thing on this list.. Noxfire.
If he remembered correctly, there was a some deity in either Roman or Greek lore who had a similar name.. 'Nyx? or was it Nox? Either way, it sounds pretty cool.' he thought.
So those black wisps on the flames that I threw at the undead.. that must have been the Noxfire. It would make sense. He was quite giddy at this moment, he was just starting out in the game and he had already found a strong power-up.
Mat slowly raised his body using his hands and knees, and stood up. He looked at the rusting sword lying a few paces away from him.. and decided to let it be. It was only dead weight so far, he would rather use something lighter. And it was rusted anyway, not so effective after all the effort he would have to put in just to hold it.
He started walking towards the turn in the path he had run from, careful, slow, he made sure to check he didn't find any more skeletons clacking.
"Vitality though.. it was such an interesting occurrence. So maybe the gods are not so racist after all, and I just need to earn it? Are they meritocrats?" he mumbled as he thought about it.
Vitality was certainly surprising.. didn't it mean something related to life, or life force? Considering that he was an.. undead, wasn't he sort of was not alive? It was a bit odd. And that other undead had no vitality either, so the fact that he did.. very intriguing.
Reaching the turn, he made sure to peek about, and check if there was truly no one there. Once certain, he walked along the path, until he reached a cabin on the left which was embedded in the wall. From what he saw from above in the tower, the cabin was right inside the area of the courtyard. Making sure no one was in there, he entered, and lit up the flame torch again to see if he could find anything of use or interest. The cabin seemed like it was a guard post at some point, it had a window, and a weapon rack which had a few more rusted swords and a lance.
Carefully looking around at the corners, Mat concluded there was nothing of interest here. He got out of the cabin, and willed the flame to extinguish. He looked up at the sky and found himself staring at the crimson moon again. It was a weird sight, to see it so red. He was used to a white moon, maybe a bluish moon once a blue moon; never red though. It was an odd sight as one could be.
Walking off, Mat reached what as another arching gate, leading him out of this walkway between the tower and the rest of the castle. Thankfully there was no stones or doors blocking his way here. The arch's gate was open, and he strolled out freely, somewhat carelessly, which he only realised when he heard those familiar clicks and clacks again.
He knew what they meant, he'd first hand experienced it just a few minutes ago.
Beyond the gate was a hallway, on the left of which was a small lawn, now covered in tall, and thick bushes reaching all the way to his waist—he guessed that. He hated being so short. As he walked on along the hall way, he found the lawn wall lead out to what was finally a gate to the courtyard.
He silently reached the gate and found it locked, like the one in the tower above. It seemed to require another key.
"Ugh.. why does a pacifist like me has to fight. I really hope it doesn't come to it."
Pacifist would be a self satisfying way to put it, he just didn't want to fight. Resigned to his fate, he walked back to the area of the hallway along which there were several rooms. Going further ahead and turning right, he found the first dark room.
"Hello? Anyone here?" he tried asking, mainly to make sure he would have a running chance if there was another undead in here, and it also screeched at the sight of him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he didn't hear anything, so there didn't seem to be anyone here. It was a large room, he realised when he lit it up with the cyan flames again, and it has a lot of decaying and crumbling tables in it. It must have been a dining hall, probably for soldiers. It was too big, too crude to be a noble family's place of dining.
Going further in, he found the room leading into another smaller room, which he now guessed to be the kitchen. It had huge iron woks stacked on top of each other, although all of them were covered in rust. In the corner of the kitchen was another skeleton lying down, dead as ever.
"Rest in peace mate, I hope you don't come after me." he whispered more to himself than the bony remains of the person, and turned around to walk out.
He was halfway to the entrance of the hall when he heard the clicks and the clacks of bones hitting bones again.
A six feet tall structure made of yellow and greying bones casually strolled into the hall from the kitchen, lit only by his torch and some of the crimson moon's light.
'Had I missed something? Or this is the same one?' he wondered.
Mat focused all his attention on the new undead, and so did the undead. He tracked back his steps to the outside, back the way he had entered. He didn't want a fight in such closed environment. Maybe it was not going to be his choice though, because he didn't know how, or from here, but he heard another clacking noise.
Saying he was horrified would be the understatement of his life. He had already died once, and now he was reincarnated, but even that as an undead. And even as an undead, he had almost just died. It was crazy. And now he was surrounded by two undeads, in an enclosed environment, one standing right in front of him and the other blocking his way to the outside…
"I am fucked."
He was, in fact, quite figuratively, fucked.