The beast lunged, claws tearing through the mud, jaws snapping open wide enough to swallow a man whole. Its roar split the night like thunder.
Alaric's world jolted violently as Ashen moved.
There was no warning, no wasted motion. One moment, Ashen stood still, pale sword angled low. The next, he glided forward, faster than the eye could follow, carrying Alaric as though the child weighed nothing at all.
The monster's strike gouged a trench in the ground where they had been standing, dirt and rain exploding upward.
Ashen's sword flashed. A clean arc, fluid and deliberate, like a brushstroke across canvas.
Blood sprayed.
The beast roared, reeling back as a line of crimson split across its scaled shoulder.
Alaric's golden eyes widened, his tiny body jolting in Ashen's arm.
Holy crap. Did he just… slice that thing like paper? That was cleaner than a sushi chef at a five-star restaurant.
Ashen didn't respond to the beast's cries. He didn't even look at the wound. His gaze remained cold, focused, silent.
The monster shook its head, saliva flying in strands, then snarled and lunged again.
The fight wasn't loud on Ashen's part.
The monster howled, claws raked against stone, tails and teeth snapped through the air — each movement a storm of violence. But Ashen answered with quiet grace, each step precise, each swing efficient.
He dodged with the barest tilt of his body, boots barely disturbing the mud. His blade rose and fell like the pendulum of a clock, every cut exact.
And with each swing, more blood splattered against the rain-soaked ground.
Alaric clung to the swaddle, his newborn fingers curling instinctively. He couldn't look away.
…No wasted effort. No panic. He fights like he's been doing this for centuries. Wait. Did I just summon an undead swordsman boss as my bodyguard? Am I the villain here?
The thought made him snort, though it came out as a tiny hiccup.
The monster roared again, tail whipping violently. It smashed through a tree, sending splinters flying. Bark and leaves rained down, pelting Alaric's swaddle.
Ashen twisted his body, shielding the child with one arm while parrying the strike with the other. Sparks erupted as steel met scale.
The impact rattled Alaric to his bones. He let out a startled gurgle.
Ashen shifted, holding him tighter, before stepping forward once more.
His blade stabbed out. Straight. Clean. Into the beast's thigh.
The monster shrieked, staggering back, ichor spraying in steaming arcs.
Ashen withdrew his sword smoothly, letting the rain wash the blade.
He said nothing. He breathed nothing. His movements were not those of a man straining for survival. They were those of something… beyond human.
Alaric swallowed hard — or tried to, but his throat was still too small for the motion.
…Yeah. He's not just some random corpse I pulled up. This guy is something else. And I'm the one who made him. Oops?
The Grand Forest remained silent, yet alive.
Dozens of glowing eyes blinked from the underbrush, watching the battle. The other predators didn't move, as though unwilling to interfere. The storm dampened sound, but the clash of steel and scale still echoed far too loudly in the clearing.
It felt like the whole forest was holding its breath, waiting.
Alaric felt it too. A sense that this fight wasn't just survival — it was significant. A moment the forest itself acknowledged.
He shivered, then muttered in his mind.
Yeah, sure, big deal for the forest. Meanwhile I'm just trying not to get shaken like a maraca every time zombie-dad here swings his sword.
The Turning Point
The monster, enraged, lunged with everything it had. Claws slashed, tail whipped, jaws snapped.
Ashen moved like flowing water, weaving through the onslaught with uncanny precision. His blade carved shallow cuts across the beast's body, blood mingling with the rain-soaked mud.
But then — the beast twisted faster than expected, jaws snapping toward Ashen's side.
For the first time, Ashen's movements faltered.
Alaric's tiny body tensed, golden eyes widening.
The fangs closed in —
Ashen shifted sharply, thrusting his arm forward.
The beast's teeth closed on empty air.
And Ashen's sword pierced straight through the soft flesh under its jaw.
Blood gushed, black and steaming. The monster staggered, howling in agony.
Ashen ripped the blade free, ichor spraying across his pale face. His expression didn't change. His eyes remained cold, silent.
Alaric's newborn jaw dropped slightly.
Okay. Yeah. Definitely a boss character. I'm not even the protagonist, am I? I'm just the squishy pet of the real MC.
The beast thrashed, blood gushing, tail whipping wildly. Trees splintered as it slammed into them, the clearing shaking with each impact.
Ashen didn't retreat.
He stepped forward, raising his blade high.
The monster's eyes blazed in hatred as it let out one last roar, shaking the entire forest.
The sound rattled Alaric's bones, forced a whimper from his throat. He pressed his face against Ashen's cold chest, too tired to keep up his sarcastic front. For just a moment, fear overtook him.
Ashen's grip tightened, steady and protective.
And then —
He swung.
Ashen's blade fell.
It wasn't a wild strike. It wasn't even fast. It was deliberate, exact, like he was cutting through cloth instead of a monster five times his size.
Steel bit through the beast's skull.
The monster's roar cut short, choking into a guttural rasp. Its body convulsed once, twice, then crashed to the ground with a thunderous impact that shook the clearing. Mud and blood splashed in every direction.
Silence followed.
The storm rumbled above, but no sound rose from the beast. Its body lay still, lifeless.
Ashen stood over it, sword dripping black ichor, his pale face expressionless.
Alaric blinked up at him from the cradle of his arms.
…Holy crap. He actually one-shotted it. That was less a fight and more an execution.
Ashen lowered the blade, flicking the ichor aside. His silver-gray eyes scanned the forest, as if daring the other predators to step forward. None did.
The glowing eyes in the underbrush retreated one by one, vanishing into the mist. The forest had decided. Ashen was not prey.
Alaric felt it too — the shift in the air, the acknowledgment of power. The Grand Forest had accepted the undead's place.
His tiny chest rose and fell rapidly. He was exhausted, trembling, but his mind still spun.
…I did this. I made him. I pulled this thing out of death itself. He's terrifying, but… he's mine. Right?
The thought made something tighten in his small chest. Not fear. Something warmer, heavier.
Ashen turned his head slowly, looking down at the child in his arms.
His expression didn't change — he had no warmth, no softness. And yet, the way he held Alaric was steady, secure, protective.
His eyes lingered on the baby's golden irises, far too sharp and aware for a newborn.
For a moment, it felt as though he understood.
Alaric smirked faintly, though it looked more like a sleepy grimace on his tiny face.
…Well, you're mine now. My zombie knight. Hope you don't mind babysitting, because I'm way too lazy for survival training at this age.
Ashen blinked once, slow, then turned his gaze back toward the forest.
No words. Just silent acceptance.
The storm began to fade. Rain softened, dripping gently through the leaves. Mist swirled low across the clearing, clinging to the fallen monster's corpse.
The smell of blood hung thick in the air.
Ashen carried Alaric away from the beast, stepping with calm precision. His boots barely made a sound as he crossed the mud.
The infant's golden eyes drooped. His body was still weak, his tiny heart beating too fast, but the exhaustion in his soul began to overtake him.
The world blurred at the edges.
Still, before sleep claimed him, he thought one last thing:
…This world sucks. But maybe… just maybe… I won't have to face it alone.
The Grand Forest remained vast and ominous, every shadow a lurking predator. The temple ruins deep within whispered faintly, unseen, waiting.
But at the edge of the clearing, under fading rain, a newborn child and his undead protector had survived their first night.
The miracle of life and death had begun.