As I emerged from the wasteland surrounding the undead town, I stepped into the Forest of Eternal Twilight—the forest that surrounds the core part of the Crimson domain as a natural barrier.
Coming back here wasn't an impromptu choice. I was more than ready. My mana level was full. The problem plaguing me had been solved, too. My mana was now also indistinguishable from the natives'; I was like a true undead. At least the near-death experience had its advantages. The closest way to become like the dead is to almost die… Shocking.
The trees, twisted, seemed to writhe in the flickering darkness. Their trunks, thick and robust, absorbed the death energy, their bark shimmering with an otherworldly glow. The air grew colder, and the eerie silence was punctuated only by the distant whispers of unseen creatures.
I reached out a hand, my skeletal fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into the bark. How did they survive? What ancient, forgotten magic allowed them to flourish in this desolate landscape? I felt a spark of curiosity ignite within me.
Druids would have been fascinated by these trees, as they might provide a solution to the problem of trees not growing in the ancient battlefields during the Age of Races divine War.
The cursed negative energy in these battlefields, mixed with various other energies, makes it impossible for plants to grow.
These trees could serve as a reference for how a forest can form and thrive in a supposedly inhospitable environment.
For all the benefits mentioned, I don't care to be honest.
Anyone who solves the ancient battle field is a great man.
But being great is to become the enemies of most nations, as the battlefields produce special resources.
The druids don't have this concern. when has anything ever stopped them from perfecting the nature imagined in their minds? But I'm no druid. Being everyone's enemy is counter productive.
These trees really are a marvel. A lot of mysteries hidden beneath the surface of this twisted realm.
As I delved deeper into the forest, I caught glimpses of level 3 undead creatures, their power and intelligence evident in their deliberate movements. The forest floor was strangely clean, devoid of leaves. A quick observation and I found that leaves not attached to their mother plants withered quickly and turned to ashes.
Utilizing my mana sense, the mana in the forest smelled like decay and twisted vitality.
I observed level 3 undead entities, sublimated beings that ignored me as they went about their own business.
I think I understand.
Due to their long lives, the undead were very indifferent and not in a hurry to make friends. They were wary of me, only observing from a distance. They tended to their nightmare horses, a breed of intelligent, level 3 undead creatures that served as their partners. Their partnership was forged through a shared power level, recognizing each other as equals.
A steed looked at its partner for a moment, leaving. The undead warrior chased it begging profusely promising not to repeat the offence.
That doesn't look like how an intelligent being will behave to it's pet… Pause! thinking of how some humans on earth treated pets and thinking of some druids too, then this doesn't prove any point. Maybe the undead too has someone who loves his pet so much.
My gut feeling though, that horse-like undead most likely has a will of it's own.
The forest, a complex ecosystem, comprised skeletal creatures, nightmares, and other undead beasts that roamed freely, driven by primal instincts. The forest was not all quiet, lesser undead in clusters were moving about and fighting most of the time, trying to evolve either consciously or under the urgings of sentient undead.
Lesser undead creatures, level 2 and below, gathered in clearings, driven by a primal urge to evolve, seeking to transcend their current state. The winners of this process would emerge as newly evolved, intelligent level 3 creatures. This was most likely how the town's population grew—through the constant evolution of its lesser undead inhabitants.
As I navigated the Forest of Eternal Twilight, I traversed the domains of several Beast Kings—level 3, intelligent creatures that had been monstrous beings in their former lives. Driven by instinct and memories of their previous existence, they had transformed into Bonecraft creatures, retaining the essence of their former selves. Their eyes glowed with a dim, malevolent light, and their undead forms varied—some skeletal, some rotten-fleshed, with some strangely not looking any different from when alive except for their auras, even spectral, radiated a palpable aura of menace.
These entities, distinct from the human-derived skeletal creatures, ruled over their respective territories within the forest. Though intelligent and powerful, they remained subject to the town's overarching authority.
The most favoured were definitely the horse-like undead. Their fiery eyes and ghostly manes added an ethereal quality to their already imposing presence.
I continued on my journey, observing the intricate dynamics of this undead ecosystem. The Beast Kings, lesser undead, and other creatures all played their part in the forest's delicate balance of power. Their intelligence and formidable presence commanded respect, but it was clear that they operated within the boundaries set by the town's true rulers.
I stood as a silent observer, taking in the intricacies of this undead society. As I emerged from the Forest of Eternal Twilight, I blended in with the other undead creatures, avoiding suspicion. My presence was just another drop in the ocean of undead that roamed the forest.
In most realms, the phenomenon of day and night is marked by the projection of the real sun and moon, whose projections exist in all planes of existence, with the undead plane not being an exception to this rule. However, this realm is special, as the brightness of the sun and moon were equal. The energy from the sun reaching this plane was reduced by the plane to the intensity of the moon, as the use of the sun's energy in the death realm was minimal, if not almost useless. The sun's existence, which is more inclined to light and life, wasn't appreciated in the death realm—a realm of death. Though undead were also a kind of life?
I pondered—does the presence of the sun helped the undead in any way? The death realm couldn't have just let the projection of the sun exist in the world laws if it wasn't useful.
Could be useful in some ways, or maybe the death realm couldn't go against the natural laws.
My mind wandered, drifting off as usual for a while before coming back to my senses, remembering my current task.
It felt weird that the some in the town noticed there was a newcomer but didn't try to do anything. Thinking about it, it seemed to make sense.
If a sublimated being or lower came, it wouldn't be able to do anything to their collective might. If someone higher came, then it's the towns turn to be in trouble.
They wouldn't be able to do anything to save themselves. This gave them an attitude of not caring about newcomers.
I had a meeting with the noble planned, and I wanted to be prepared for any eventuality.