Chapter 56: The World of the Dead
Hans clutched the metal medal in his palm, turned, and walked back toward the forest entrance. He returned to the end of that impossibly wide stone road where the Skeleton Knight and the two Toxic Archers still stood guard like eternal statues.
Hans approached, wearing his best practiced grin, and held out the medal.
"If you'd be so kind, My Lords."
The Skeleton Knight's skull tilted toward the medal. It seemed genuinely puzzled—why didn't this human pull out the Master's token earlier? One of the Toxic Archers stepped forward, its jaw clicking open and shut.
"Follow me, human."
Hans tucked the medal away and trailed behind the archer, stepping into the heart of the unknown forest. The trees on either side of the path were trimmed with geometric precision.
As he walked, Hans scanned his surroundings. Ten minutes into the trek, the sight ahead made him slow his pace. In a massive clearing, a circular array woven from thousands of glowing runes pulsed with a ghostly blue light. Around its perimeter stood dozens of Skeleton Mages, their staffs acting as conduits to the energy nodes to maintain the spell's stability. Every so often, the center of the array flared, and one or more skeletons would manifest out of thin air.
His heart hammered against his ribs. This place was far more sophisticated—and dangerous—than he had dared to imagine.
The Toxic Archer ignored his unease, leading him past rows of identical two-story stone houses. The architecture was utilitarian, stark, and perfectly uniform. Hans began to speculate: What would the residence of such a terrifying Sovereign look like? A gothic castle built of bleached bone? A floating fortress held up by ancient Mana?
Countless possibilities flashed through his mind, each representing absolute power and dread.
Then, the Toxic Archer stopped. It extended a finger bone, pointing forward. Hans followed the gesture.
It was... a small log cabin. Hans stood frozen.
"We have arrived," the archer stated. "That Personage is inside."
With that, it turned and vanished back into the settlement without a second glance. Hans stood alone before the "ugly-cute" wooden shack, feeling his entire worldview beginning to fracture. He straightened his collar, hesitated for a long second, and then knocked on the door.
"Enter."
Hans pushed the door open. The interior was spartan. A small wooden table, two simple chairs, and a coffin. On the table lay a fishing rod.
The skeleton he had just met by the river—the one who couldn't catch a fish and gave him the strange medal—was sitting in one of the chairs.
Hans's brain stalled.
He had prepared for a terrifying Lich, an ancient Vampire, perhaps even a Dragon in human form. He never expected the ruler of the massive Undead Empire to be the same bone-rack that had just been complaining about his luck by the water.
Kaito looked up and set down the cloth he was using to wipe his rod. Hans stood tense, his throat tight. But he was a merchant—an elite merchant. No matter the client, he had to maintain his composure. He adjusted his mindset in a heartbeat.
"Great Lord of the Dead, Hans the Merchant offers you his highest respects."
Kaito gave no reaction, listening in silence. Hans paused, searching for a spark of interest, then pressed on.
"Your Empire lacks for nothing in terms of resources. You have grain, you have iron, you have weapons, and you have a tireless labor force. You possess a terrifying level of productivity; you are almost entirely self-sufficient. But your Empire is missing one vital component."
Hans leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Circulation."
Kaito's skull tilted slightly to the side. Encouraged, Hans's voice grew louder, fueled by his own excitement.
"You need me, My Lord! You need a merchant like me to bridge the gap! I can be your sharpest spear, piercing through the trade barriers of the human world! I can be your sturdiest shield, deflecting unnecessary trouble and prying eyes! Grant me this opportunity, and I will bring you wealth beyond your imagination!"
Kaito ignored the grand speech and asked flatly, "And what would I do with all that money?"
Hans's mind went blank. The ultimate overlord flex.
But he didn't give up. He wasn't just representing himself anymore. He began to organize his words to explain the strategic advantages again, but Kaito spoke first, his tone carrying a hint of dark amusement.
"But you're not wrong. I do need you—or rather, my territory needs you. Perhaps Greed will find you interesting."
Kaito didn't wait for a response. He lay back into his coffin and gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Leave the medal on the table. You may go. And remember to move your family to Iron Fortress."
Hans didn't bother asking who "Greed" was. The adrenaline of the emotional roller coaster had him vibrating with energy. All he wanted now was to start his plan.
"Yes, My Lord!"
As he reached the door, he stopped, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Um, My Lord... about the toll fee... could you maybe lower it a bit? I'm actually out of coin for the trip back."
Kaito paused, realizing he hadn't actually set a formal price for the "Ghost Road" yet.
"I'll have a Skeleton Knight escort you back. Just provide the coordinates."
Hans bowed frantically in gratitude and practically skipped out the door.
Kaito lay in his coffin, staring at the ceiling. Greed had indeed been grumbling about the Empire's lack of a currency system and internal economic loop. This human, Hans, had arrived at the perfect time. Right tool for the right job.
He sent a pulse through the Soul Link, transmitting everything about Hans and his own preliminary concepts to Greed in Jade Territory. Then, he issued a command to a Skeleton Knight outside the valley to begin the escort. Finally, as an afterthought, Kaito set the formal toll for the Great Road.
One silver coin.
Hans stepped out of the cabin, feeling as though the sun had never shone brighter. His life had changed forever. He was no longer a small-time trader scrounging for gold. He was going to be the Chief Purveyor of a rising Empire—the shadow mogul of a trans-continental trade route.
He was immersed in his golden fantasies when a massive figure appeared. It was a Skeleton Knight sitting atop a midnight-black warhorse. The Knight extended a gauntleted hand.
Hans understood. With the Knight's help, he scrambled clumsily onto the horse's back, sitting behind the silent warrior. He puffed out his chest and pointed south.
"To the southern city... to Leaf City."
The Skeleton Knight didn't answer, but the warhorse lunged forward. The wind whistled in Hans's ears as the landscape blurred into streaks of color. He gripped the Knight's armor tight, exhilarated by the speed. He could already see the gold coins lining the road ahead.
The sheer excitement finally overcame his lingering fear. He shouted over the wind to the Knight:
"Your Emperor... that Personage... why does he live in such a simple place?"
The Knight didn't look back, silently guiding the steed. Hans thought he wouldn't get an answer. But after a long silence, the Knight's voice drifted back with the wind.
"The Master once said... the world of the dead is sustained by memory."
Hans chewed on those words as they flew across the plains.
Sustained by memory?
Is forgetting the only true death?
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