The wind was colder in the graveyard, just as the dead liked it.
It lay beyond the last fence of Withercrook, a silent kingdom of the forgotten.
Crows, black as sin, perched on thin trees and tombstones. The air smelled of rust and dry sand.
A squeaking sound broke the silence as Percival pushed open the iron gates. He stepped through, a shadow invading a realm of shadows.
His eyes swept across the place.
No grave keepers.
That was good. He wouldn't know how to explain his purpose here to any sane person.
He walked deeper, making his way through tombstones half-scavenged by moss.
With ⸢Grave Sense⸥ active, the silent place was revealed to him. Beneath the brittle soil were the decayed corpses of people; hundreds of them.
He could feel the death-mana within them.
But he had to be selective.
Every corpse retained the echo of its former life. Whatever Class they held when they were alive, they would carry echoes of it when they became his undead.
A Baker. A Priest. A Bard.
But if Percival desired killers and protectors, none of those Classes would help him at all.
So, he prowled the lanes of the graveyard, searching for the corpses of Warriors or Fighters.
Those were two of the very few combat classes that weren't Awakened—unless he would be so lucky to find an Awakened corpse somewhere in this filth.
He knew he wouldn't. When the Awakened die, their bodies were treated with more reverence than cheap tombstones.
Luckily for him though, it didn't take long to find what he sought: Warrior corpses.
The Battle of the Howling Lake had filled this yard with them. Thousands had died defending a cause already forgotten.
He stopped before a cluster of graves housing dead Warriors.
"You'll do."
His palm opened, and he activated the Skill.
Rather than skeletons rising from the soil, he was met with yet another notification:
⸢Please input custom command phrase⸥
⸢Skill will be renamed to your command phrase⸥
Percival stared.
He admitted to himself that this would have been fun if not for the circumstances.
Creating a command phrase to activate a Skill seemed like something Percy would have enjoyed.
But Percival didn't linger on it.
"Awake," he said simply.
⸢Awake Skill activated⸥
Suddenly, four graves burst open.
An eruption of dirt followed by small vortexes of blue fire.
From each grave rose figures of bone, standing tall from the earth that had once swallowed them, shaking off the soil of their long sleep.
Their eye sockets were lifeless but not empty. Dark blue fire glowed within them.
The same blue flame burned around their joints and licked the rusted armor that hung clunkily on their bodies of bone.
Each clutched the weapon they had died with: three held swords, one held a spear.
⸢4 Skeleton Soldiers summoned⸥
⸢Summon Space: 4/4⸥
Their stat windows followed in quick sequence:
⸢Skeleton Soldier⸥
⸢Rank: E⸥
⸢Type: Skirmisher, Ranger⸥
⸢Health: 50/50⸥
⸢Loyalty: Absolute⸥
Percival assumed the Skeletons holding swords were Skirmishers and the one with the spear was the only Ranger.
E-Rank was quite low for soldiers who were supposed to fight for him. He wondered if there were other kinds of Undead Soldiers he could summon.
A new window answered him:
⸢Undead Soldier Categories⸥
⸢Skeleton Soldiers: The bones of the Unawakened dead. Their souls are not strengthened by mana, hence their will is weak. They can only be summoned as Skeletons and are obedient instantly upon summoning. They cannot level up but can be fortified with magical accessories, armor or weapons⸥
⸢Soul Soldiers: Spirits of the Awakened dead. Mana strengthens their souls, and their will. They are summoned as souls, taking mortal form and reclaiming all abilities and strengths they possessed before death. They are capable of leveling up⸥
Percival recalled seeing the Summon Skill for Soul Soldiers earlier. Since they seemed to be a more powerful type of his Undead summons, it was yet another reason to level up fast.
The system shimmered again:
⸢Quest Complete: Summon your first Undead Soldier⸥
⸢Rewards: +10 EXP, +1 Skill Point, New Skill Unlocked — Soul Draught⸥
⸢Soul Draught: Sustain Skeleton Soldiers with the lifeforce of a corpse. Can not awaken corpse after using this Skill⸥
It was a functional Skill for battle; useful when his Summon Spaces were full, a corpse was present, and his Summons were weakened.
Percival studied his new minions.
Their Health was incredibly miniscule compared to his. He doubted they'd be of much help.
Still, he preferred these lifeless bones over trusting the people of this world.
The Skeleton Soldiers peered back at him, blue fire in their skulls flickering as though awaiting his thought.
Percival toyed with the idea of naming them, but he realized quickly it was a comical suggestion.
They all looked the same.
'Skeleton' was fine.
"Maybe I should return to the house," he muttered, turning to give them all a glance. "I hope you're handy with things other than a sword."
One of them tilted its bonehead, a smoky rasp whispering from its jaw.
Percival sighed.
As he turned towards the gate, a new message bloomed.
⸢New Quest: Secure your first kill with an Undead Soldier⸥
⸢Reward: +20 EXP, +1 Skill Point, +20 Mana Coins⸥
Percival paused, then turned to look around. "In this place, everything to kill is already dead."
He looked at the gate. "Maybe on our way to Wolsend."
In Wolsend, the popular town in Northmarch, where Gate Worlds appeared frequently, he would find some to clear, gain some XP, and unlock new Skills.
He would have to spend coin though, as Gate Worlds weren't free entry. Unless he encountered a freshly opened one—if luck was on his side.
Percival moved to leave the graveyard, his four minions followed behind him, mindless soldiers of bone, trudging like flies with legs.
When he reached the gate, a man's scream, carried by the wind, caught his ears.
He stopped.
At the edge of the graveyard, down a rocky path, a band of men were dragging a trader across the dirt.
His daughter was on her knees, crying as two of them searched the wagon.
The men had already wounded the trader with their blades but promised worse if he didn't hand over his coin.
"You're a Trader, aren't you!" their leader, a Lvl. 52 Bandit with a bald head and a scar through his face, demanded. "Give us all your coin. Don't make me hurt your little girl!"
"Please!" the man cried, shielding his face with his raised hands. "I have nothing. The market was dry today, we sold nothing."
"Liar!" the Bandit turned to his associates. "Kill the girl!"
"Nooooo!"
Two of them approached the terrified girl, blades lifted in the air.
"Thieves," a flat voice said.
The Bandits, all five of them, turned at the sound of the voice.
There, standing by the fence, was a tall figure. An odd looking thing.
He had the darkest hair falling down his shoulders and across half his face, the rest shadowed by the dying sun.
One of the men spat. "Who're you supposed to be?"
Percival said nothing.
The leader dropped the trader who crawled to his daughter, holding her tight.
He advanced and stopped in front of his men. Noticing that the strange man held no weapon, he laughed, showing black teeth.
"Got no sword, boy? Then keep walkin'. Unless you fancy joinin' the dead here."
Percival stayed still, glaring at them through his dark hair. "Why would I need a weapon when I'm not the one fighting you?"
The bandits looked confused now.
"What?"
Percival raised his hand.
From vortexes of blue flame, his four Skeleton Soldiers emerged, rising as though they'd just been resurrected, armor rattling, weapons clutched tight.
The Bandits stumbled back, faces twisted in horror.
"What in the gods' name?"
"He's a Summoner!"
"But what kind of Summoner calls skeletons!"
The dark minions assumed battle poses, and under Percival's mental order, they charged.
Their movements were mechanical, clanking with their armor. Still, they looked dangerous.
The Bandits gripped their weapons with fear in their eyes.
"I don't know, man! We've never fought skeletons before."
"Don't be scared, you idiot! They're skeletons!"
Indeed they were. And they weren't very strong skeletons either.
The Bandits quickly overpowered them when the battle began, and within seconds, Percival's Skeleton Soldiers were shattered, blue fire sputtering out as their bones dissolved to smoke.
⸢Skeleton Soldier 1-4: Deceased⸥
Percival watched it all happen. Now, he was alone and perplexed.
"Well," he muttered, "that was disappointing."
The Bandits, panting, broke into laughter. "Ha! Is that all, Summoner? You scare crows with bones?"
The leader sneered, brandishing his sword. "Now it's your turn to die, fool."
Percival looked at them. Calm, almost bored.
He'd always had his personal distaste for Bandits, even in the former timeline.
But this one especially, had just called him a fool.
Percival realized this version of him carried a mightier ego.
His gaze dropped to a blade lying in the dirt, fallen from one of the Bandits who now wielded an axe.
Without a word, he walked toward them, footsteps crunching in the silence.
The Bandits glanced at each other. "What's he doing?"
He stopped by the blade, and before they understood what was happening, he'd already picked it up.
Percival met their eyes and said, "You've allowed me to find a sword."