by Sarah Lin
"Nah, fuck that shit." What they needed to do first was find one of the stashes of loot he'd left behind for his second life. Technically that was cheating, but if there were no mods watching, what did it matter? Besides, he'd been carrying too much shit in his inventory by the end, anyway.
"Uh... Lord Bloodwraith? What do you mean?"
How was he going to explain this? Raigar wanted Secretary Skeleton to do the work for him, so he needed to play along at least a bit. "So... before I killed them, the adventurers spoke of a great store of treasure. Including a lot of magic shit. If we want to regain our power, we need to go find it first."
The skeleton examined him for a long time. "You are... sure that they were not lying, and that we can find this store of treasure?"
"Oh, deffo. Follow me."
Raigar turned around and began jogging out of the final dungeon. Hey, no stamina bar and he wasn't getting tired - being undead had a few advantages. The layout hadn't changed at all and there were no enemies, so he didn't even have to fight.
Everything had a lot of dust on it, though. AdventureCorp had said he might need to skip some years so that the world had time to recover for a proper second game, but he hadn't expected it to be that long. Then again, he had no idea how any of that worked, so whatever. What mattered was that his stash of loot should still be intact where he'd hidden it.
As he got outside, he brought up his minimap... fuck. While he stared out at the barely familiar landscape, Secretary Skeleton came up behind him.
"Lord Bloodwraith? Is everything alright?"
"So... it might take a bit longer than I expected to find it..."
Chapter 4
For the first leg of their trip, it made sense to travel with a larger group of merchants. Their pace was slower, but they could use the largest merchant paths and the size of the group would ward off bandits. Normally Bloodwraith might have been interested in killing them for the power of their deaths, but he doubted any bandits in the Cresthaven region would be much challenge for him anymore, despite what the boxes claimed.
Instead he focused on his mana as they walked, trying to flex it in the proper arc for a spell. It refused to cooperate, instead flowing down the rigid channels for skills like the Fist of Rage. He'd heard of such things in limited warriors but never experienced it himself. Bloodwraith found it rather challenging, but just kept forcing his intellect against the problem.
As soon as they'd gotten out of Cresthaven, he'd checked the necromantic case. Not exactly the set of tools he would have stored personally, but it would do. Once he had more time and was better prepared, he could begin regaining his power.
Time passed quickly as he fell into the practice. Though magic no longer came easily to him, the patterns were still familiar and comforting. Even the boxes that informed him of increments of progress didn't annoy him. When the caravan of wagons slowed to a halt and everyone began to set up camp, he was almost disappointed.
He'd exhausted all his mana working, however, so it wouldn't hurt to take a break. Meara and Danniah returned to their wagon with bread and stew from one of the caravan cooks. They all sat in the bed of the wagon facing each other, and while it was hardly luxurious, it was pleasant.
"You almost disappeared today, Bloodwraith." Danniah eyed him curiously over her bread. "You should talk to some of the other guards. Might make the trip less boring."
"I was not bored. I was working."
"You don't want to talk to them at all? It might be interesting."
"Unlikely." Bloodwraith spooned his stew dourly. "What am I likely to learn from peasants?"
Danniah rolled her eyes. "Fine, be that way. What about you, Meara? You seemed really busy today."
"I was speaking to the merchants." Meara leaned back against the side of the wagon, staring into the darkening sky overhead. "Where they're going, what they're selling. Especially what goods sell well in Manascas. We're going to need coin when we arrive, after all, and I might be able to help with that."
"Ooh, can you just pull the most valuable goods out of your sleeve like you do potions?"
"Certainly not now, possibly not ever. I exist to make potions, after all." Though her voice was flat, a moment later Meara gave them a wry smile and Bloodwraith didn't see any of the old sadness in her eyes. "I still have an edge over normal merchants, though, because I'm fairly sure I can sneak goods past customs. If I don't have to pay the usual fees, I can either undercut the local market or just enjoy the high profit margins. Possibly both. Hopefully I'll have a better handle on it by the time we leave the caravan."
"Wow, that's really impressive. Now I feel bad for just learning about other people's lives... I wonder if I could be getting tips from some of the guards." Danniah turned back toward him. "But Bloodwraith here isn't going to talk to anyone at all, is he?"
Bloodwraith glowered, only prompting her to beam at him.
"Hey, Meara, think you can do something to... convince him to talk to people? We know he's motivated by quests..."
Meara chuckled and closed her eyes for a moment. Before Bloodwraith could object, a box appeared in his vision.
[Potential Objective: Gather Information
Speak with ten members of the trade caravan.
Reward: EXP
Accept? Y/N]
Bloodwraith stared at it for a moment, hating the fact that he was predictable but unable to escape it. There was no downside to accepting, after all, since there seemed to be no consequence to unfinished quests staying in the boxes long term. The reward would no doubt be small, but it was better than nothing, especially since he might be forced to converse with ten of the peasants anyway.
"Fine." He extended his will toward the box and accepted it. "But you can't create a quest that will make me enjoy it."
"I tried, actually." Meara stared into the air, not quite at the box, but nearly. "I also tried to include a joke in the description. I can only somewhat feel the words, but it didn't work, did it?"
"The entire quest is a joke! But no, the text seemed mundane."
"Figured. But I'm getting a better sense for the limitations of it."
Danniah looked back and forth between them wistfully. "I wish I could see the boxes. Or have a feel for them like Meara does."
"Trust me," Bloodwraith said, "you don't. Especially not the way they are now."
"I don't know, I think it might be kind of fun..."
They chatted so comfortably that Bloodwraith almost didn't notice when a box appeared to declare that his mana had been refilled. But when he did, he felt a thrill of excitement. Finally, at long last... true, he wouldn't regain his full power that night, but he would take the first meaningful step.
Bloodwraith needed to wait until midnight for the ritual, so he stayed a while longer. Eventually Danniah fell asleep lying against his side, boxy within her armor but still a pleasant presence. He moved away as carefully as possible, easing her down into a comfortable sleeping position. After slipping a blanket over her, he tried to climb out of the wagon without waking Meara.
When he looked in her direction, he saw that her eyes were already open, as if she hadn't been sleeping at all. He paused at the side of the wagon, strangely awkward. Which he shouldn't be, since it wasn't like he was doing anything wrong. Still, he found himself hesitating until Meara spoke softly.
"Is it time?"
"Yes." No point denying it, and Meara simply nodded, then closed her eyes.
"Good luck."
He stepped down from the wagon, a bit disappointed that she had said so little. Yet before he reached the ground, another box appeared before him:
[Potential Objective: Regain Your Power
Re-acquire true necromantic power.
Sub-Quest I: Regain the capacity to use necromantic energy.
Sub-Quest II: Develop power to the point of controlling multiple undead.
Sub-Quest III: Develop the capacity to control an undead army.
Sub-Quest IV: Surpass former power.
Reward: EXP, Stat Point
Accept? Y/N]
Bloodwraith found himself smiling. It must have taken her some time to figure out how to grant him this exact quest, especially given the unusual details of it, so that was a better affirmation of his work than words could ever be. He had never seen a quest with "sub-quests" before, so it would be interesting to see how it worked.
The only curious thing was that the boxes gave him a choice. Generally his core quests were simply granted to him instead of being considered potential objectives. Perhaps it was because Meara had granted it, or perhaps he was finally stepping away from the box gods' chosen path for him. Either way, he pushed aside the distraction and headed away from the caravan's circle of wagons.
A guard leaned against a tree some distance away, only partially paying attention. His box declared him to be Level 3, so Bloodwraith dismissed him at first, but he forced himself to reconsider. Since the boxes weren't entirely themselves lately, he needed to stay on his guard for any inaccuracies.
"Going somewhere?" the guard asked.
Bloodwraith grunted. "Nature calls."
"Go ahead. Normally I'd say to take someone with you, but, uh... you look like you can take care of yourself."
Nodding to him, Bloodwraith moved away from the caravan until the firelight was lost in the trees. He was navigating solely by the light of the stars and the sliver of the moon. Later on he might need to do a ritual on a moonless night, but for now midnight was more than enough. What mattered was that he could start the process.
Once he found a suitably quiet clearing, Bloodwraith knelt down carefully. As he cleared his mind, he slowly removed one of his gauntlets. He used that hand to remove the case from his bag and set it directly in front of him.
With his other hand he selected a thin knife with a skull at the base. Some necromancers beseeched dark gods or their ancestors, but he had always considered those perversions of the true path. What mattered was the raw power of death. Before he could go further with the ritual, he needed to reconnect with that power. It might take him most of the night, but-
Almost immediately, he felt the power stir within him.
Bloodwraith smiled as the eyes of the skull began to glow with unholy power. Yes, of course this would be easy. In this new body, he constantly fed on death itself. Furthermore, he had directly killed countless creatures and many people since becoming an adventurer, perhaps more than he had as a necromancer. Death flowed through his very veins.
Extending his free hand palm up, Bloodwraith cut across it with the knife and watched the blood well up. Yes, everything was in alignment. The darkness of the night pooled within him and he clenched his hand into a fist, seizing the power...
[You are attempting to develop a new class!
Warning: This class falls outside your core class's competency and will develop at a reduced rate.]
He let out a low hiss but restrained his anger. "No... inscrutable boxes, don't do this to me..."
[Warning: Attempting to increase two classes simultaneously will seriously reduce skill development.]
[Guidelines currently active. Reshaping power...]
"What? Stop this chicanery at once, fiendish boxes!"
[Congratulations!
New skill developed: Undead Companions
Starting Level: 1
Intellect +1, Piety -1
You are the first AdventureCorp user to develop this skill as of your most recent sync!
EXP +100,000]
"No..." There was no more anger in his voice, Bloodwraith felt only crushing disappointment. Of course the boxes would find some way to ruin even necromancy itself, his first magical love and his life's work. He shouldn't have expected anything else.
The dark power still pulsed with the blood in his fist, but it no longer carried any thrill. Bloodwraith opened his hand and saw that the wound had healed, indicating that the ritual had been successful. But there was no point in observing that when the boxes were going to bluntly tell him everything anyway.
[Quest: Regain Your Power progressed!
Re-acquire true necromantic power.
Sub-Quest I: Regain the capacity to use necromantic energy.
Sub-Quest Complete!
EXP +500]
That should have pleased him, yet Bloodwraith felt only bitterness. He slowly swallowed his frustration, since it earned him nothing. Though the boxes always stood in his path, they also granted him power he could never otherwise attain. As annoying as they had been, the boxes had changed the skill for increased compatibility with his current power. There would be some sort of silver lining to the boxes clouding his path.
Since the next ritual required a live sacrifice, Bloodwraith got to his feet and searched for a woodlands creature. As he did so, he pushed his will against the boxes, demanding that they tell him more of this new skill it had forced upon him. He disliked their tendency to over-explain everything, but since he knew little about this, he wanted to know as much as he could.
Thankfully, the "guidelines" that plagued him during combat did not seem to have infected the explanatory boxes. From them, he learned that "Undead Companions" seemed to be a more focused version of normal necromancy. His ability to control or raise multiple undead creatures would be limited, but those he created would be more powerful.
Not only that, the boxes hinted that any undead he created might be able to grow more powerful. Usually that could only occur if the necromancer rebuilt them with greater strength or used more mana to reinforce their bones. He lacked the knowledge to ask the boxes more specific questions, but it seemed that the undead might fall into the same system of power that governed him.
If so, that could potentially be a considerable asset. It was almost enough for him to forgive the box gods their manipulations.
Finally he spotted a bird in the branches nearby, an ugly squawking thing. Not a very auspicious start for a necromancer, but perhaps the kind of thing a barbarian would sacrifice. Besides, all that really mattered was that it had life pulsing within its veins.
Bloodwraith extended a hand slowly, then released a burst of force. It smashed through the branch and flattened the bird against a nearby tree trunk. That left it stunned but alive, though some of its bones had broken.
He quickly used the necromantic knife to put the creature out of its misery, though more out of a desire for efficiency than mercy. When he did so, he felt a trickle of power from the ritual. Yes, he could work with this...
[Victory! You received 100 EXP and Bird Feathers x17.]
That was what he deserved for thinking the boxes were his ally, even for a moment. Once he would have raged at such mockery, but now he merely sighed. Bloodwraith cleaned up the ritual and tried to focus solely on the next steps of his plan.
Chapter 5
For several more days, Bloodwraith worked on his new skill while the caravan moved forward. They were attacked by a small group of goblins once, but the battle was so easy even the boxes didn't try to pretend there was a "Neo Oblivion Goblin" or something equally preposterous.
Unfortunately, he hadn't yet succeeded in properly raising any undead. Each attempt so far had failed, though they'd increased his "skill" with the ability to the second level. He wasn't sure if the skill was so useless that it needed to be increased multiple levels before it was even usable or if he was doing something fundamentally wrong.
"...which is why the barley harvest just isn't coming in," the man beside him was saying. "And a cousin of mine had half a field burned down by a stray lightning bolt, and did the wizards do a damn thing to compensate him? Course not, they always have some excuse or another... anyway, even if it isn't burning down, that barley is a real problem..."
Bloodwraith grunted affirmatively. He'd developed a surprising repertoire of different grunts to avoid having to sustain an actual conversation with the others in the caravan. Nobody seemed surprised that someone who looked the way he did wasn't much of a conversationalist, so it
worked well enough.
If Meara's goal had been to prove that she could manipulate him via quest boxes, she was right. There was a limit to productive activity while traveling like this, so how could he ignore the quest EXP? But if her goal was to make him care even slightly about any of their fellow travelers, she had failed spectacularly. Bloodwraith spent a lot of time wondering if he could raise a zombie more easily if he started with someone he'd just killed.
He'd discovered that just greeting people or exchanging trivial words didn't count, but the quest didn't require very much engagement otherwise. After he distantly listened for a while longer, he saw what he was looking for:
[4/10 Conversations]
Smiling, Bloodwraith pretended he was being called by someone else and exited the conversation. Another one down. At this rate he might finish the quest tomorrow, though of course Meara would just generate another one. It was gathering cureleaves all over again.
Bloodwraith dropped back to the middle of the caravan, where he found Meara at the reins of their wagon with Danniah sitting beside her. It looked like she needed the break, as it couldn't be easy to keep up with the wagons while lugging her shield around. He started considering magical solutions to that problem before she noticed him and waved.
"Hey, Raigar! Come join us!"
He moved closer but just walked alongside them. His plan had been to listen to their conversation, but it seemed that he'd interrupted it, because Danniah kept speaking in his direction.
"You've been so friendly with everyone else in the caravan lately. Are you going to get all soft and fuzzy on us, Raigar? Start hugging everyone?"
"I am only speaking with them to further my own objectives." Bloodwraith smirked in Meara's direction, though she couldn't see it beneath his helm. "In fact, I am only speaking with the two of you to acquire two more people toward the quest requirement."
Meara's eyes widened. "Wait, are you saying we count?"
