A knife and a cloak was all I had when I left the mansion on the cold winter night. And a hickey from my lady. She had asked me not to heal it even if I died while I had seriously began doubting my goals for transmigrating. Wasn’t I supposed to exploit her? Why did it feel like I was the one being oppressed?

Nevertheless, even the cold winter and hickey didn’t stop me from getting a good glimpse at the enormous edifice before me that was more wide than tall. Nothing could match the gallows beneath that I knew, so I saved my wondrous expression for the future.

You see, expressing emotions comes at a cost for undead, so we are very stingy in that aspect. What’s the cost, you ask? For me, let’s say it is scaring the puny mortals. It is not a profit because the bakehouse owners don’t sell bread to a grinning undead. Somehow, they get scared. So, I always try to keep my face stoic as much as possible when buying bread. The owners might really doubt my genuine loyalty toward the fluffy dough, but I can’t help it.

The Escavs looming near the gates of the edifice were drinking ale, though I was quite sure they were eating something too. Obviously not bread, because I can feel the aura of such a delicacy from miles away, let alone the roof of the opposite building. I was almost on the ledge, and a step is all it would take for me to break a few bones and mend them with [Heal].

Smoke whirled behind me, and [Shadow] helped me conceal my presence even as I assuaged the darkness of the night with my smoking breath. It was cold, really cold, and I didn’t quite have free resistance like my lady. That was a passive skill I hadn’t bothered to master, so my shivering could only be blamed on my laziness.

I pulled my cowl closer, watching the weary the Escavs decked in purple tunics switching post with fresh ones. Not that it made much difference, but these new guards had bread on them. I slithered down the roof and jumped onto the compound wall, noise attracting their attention, yet [Shadow] not letting them sense my presence ravaging the silence of the night.

The Escavs were two in number, one on each side of the spiked gates, with swords­–dangling from their waist-inside the scabbard. My [Devil eye] zoomed past the street and put the Escavs to sleep instantly, and I trudged across the street like an agile beast, past them, inside the spiked compound walls through legitimate gates. Magic lamps burned bright in the lawn, so I sucked their mana, and they went off in succession, shouts of guards filling the entire compound.

My [Devil eye] scurried around the entrance as I walked past the sleeping guards ignoring the enormous room sprawled with tables and chairs, and entered a dark corridor that directly descended to the gallows. The Marquis was a respectable noble in the family, but he had lost the king’s favor thanks to his honorable antics, so he was undoubtedly locked in them. Though in a lavish room.

The room I had left behind was designed for the general public and was filled to the brim with warm bodies when the sun kicked away the lousy moon. Similar to an erratic cop station, but more civil and orderly. The Esvacs handled most cases with the utmost fairness unless the king commanded otherwise, so complaints on theft, larceny, brawls always filled unanimously. Some even came by bringing their insolent children to be disciplined amidst the upright men.

If you think that the Esvacs stronghold is a nursery, I might be forced to break that pipe dream. The children are locked in the gallows for a day or two until they promise to obey their parents with tears streaming from their eyes. If you don’t cry, you don’t get released, for tears are a sign of repentance among kids. That’s what mortals believe. I’m glad my lady never got thrown here, for there’s not much excitement in jailbreak.

I placed my hands on the damp walls as I descended the dark stairs. Occasionally, some guards walked up the stairs, only to fall asleep before my [Fatigue]. My torture target for the night was the Marquis, so I would save all my excitement for his blood and not satisfy myself with anything less. The purple robed mage was nowhere to be found even when I reached the bottom of the stairs. Maybe I should tell him to thank whomever he worshiped one of these days.

The thick iron bars flanked me on either side; the prisoners involved in restless mutter in some prisons or hurling curses in others. They were whipped, probably every day, because the marred faced had fresh wounds that hadn’t started festering yet. The maze divulged erratically before me, some cells empty with raised iron bars and stink of rotting corpses. Guards stumbled on me periodically, and they either didn’t notice me or just fell asleep.

[Shadow] is a useful spell when cast by a mage who has mastered multicasting. Or else it’s just another spell of Amateur mage that seems useless to wizards because they know better and stronger spells, and their ignorant thoughts won’t let them waste their energy on honing basic spells.

The thick stench of feces and putrid wounds disappeared when I reached a relatively brighter area, one with larger corridors and rooms with doors instead of iron railings. I leaned against the dark corner, away from the glare of the magic lamps as two guards walked past me, my breath almost forcing them to lose their lives. They didn’t notice me, and I continued walking through the widened corridor looking for the Marquis with my [Devil eye] warping through every individual room.

A couple of guards in the distance noticed me, and I cast [Quagmire] that materialized dark circle underneath their body and encased them in darkness, and they collapsed before uttering a word. Obviously, never to wake up again.

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face when I noticed the Marquis sleeping on a lavish bed, and [Fatigue] on the guard outside is all it took for me to grab the door keys and open it.

“Yo, Marquis,” I mimicked Garlan, my smile stilling him instantly, his face shades darker. Anyone who could walk around the gallows unarmed wasn’t a normal person, and I am not because I am undead. Calling me a person is belittling me, so never think of me as a human, for you won’t be alive to bear the consequences.

“Rudolf?” he maintained an amicable tone unlike his usual stern tone directed at his servants.

“Stop pretending, Brackett,” I laughed and leisurely took a seat on the only stool in the room after locking the door.

“What do you mean?!” he snarled, his voice mixed with anxiety and rage. “How dare a servant disrespect his owner?!”

“I don’t belong to anyone, Marquis,” I watched him sit on the large bed, and beside him was a woman, I suppose, naked. My [Devil eye] hadn’t noticed her, so I had to get more blood in my hands. [Ward] encased us as always before I reveled in their cries.

“How would the lady Marlica feel watching you sleep with women from the gallows, my lord?” I asked with amusement, and his face contorted, for he didn’t expect me to notice the lump under the sheets. “Come out of bed already, Brackett. Naked or not doesn’t really make a difference.”

First the prince, and now the Marquis. Why are all the men so horny? Should I do these men a favor by cutting their manhood? Maybe, it would make them more honest. Then again, I don’t want to be hailed as a hero, so let’s keep it at that for now.

“You insolent bastard,” he shouted. “Guards!”

With a sigh, I cast [Ice shards] over the lump in the sheets beside him, and thirty frozen sickles, as thin as my fingers, stabbed the lady one at a time, her horrified shrieks leaving the Marquis speechless. He was terrified, for he stumbled out of sheets stained with blood, naked. And probably flaccid.

I walked toward him and kicked his face away, for I felt annoyed at his haughty stare, though horrified.

“You were the bastard who cast a curse on the guard,” he looked at me with his broken lip, hatred seeping out of his eyes. “And killed the prince! You think you can get away with the crime of murdering a royal family?”

“What crime?” I laughed, and he dragged his butt until his back collided against the bed. “Slaughter? How is that a crime?”

“You are crazy!” He shouted, his hands searching for something to arm himself.

“You got one down there,” I said, holding my chin in thought. “Don’t you use it to ravage everyone? How about you try to spar with my knife with that?”

His face changed color in embarrassment and rage, but my laughter kept him from hurling any more curses.

“How many times did you slap my lady?” I asked, settling back down on the stool. A knife was all I had after I removed the cloak if you ignore the hickey, so I detached it from my pocket along with the sheath.

Marquis didn’t answer, and I sighed again. “Look, Brackett. Let us settle this amicably, shall we? I ask questions you answer, and you die. I ask questions you don’t answer, you die. Don’t you love running your mouth? How about you start talking? I might not torture you if you get all my questions right.”

I slipped the knife out of the scabbard, and the metal gleamed under the mana lamps.

“Why the hell are you doing this to me, Rudolf?!” Tears drowned his face finally, and I smiled because I was ecstatic.

Slaughter is something we undead enjoy, but the agony of the mortals riles us up more. “I am the one asking questions, Brackett,” I said.

Rapier sounded too easy for this horny mutt, so I suppose a battle-ax would do that job. He was sturdy after all, and piercing might not hurt as much as snipping.

“How many times did you slap my lady?” I repeated, tracing an extended cut along my arm after folding the sleeve.

“Ten?” he wasn’t sure himself, but fear of death forced him to answer. Well, I expected him to know that much, at least.

I used [Blood forge], and a blood-red battle-ax materialized in my hand. I let the blood drip to the ground for a while and forged them into nails before healing my arm.

“Thirty-eight times,” I said. “And that is the number of times I missed my bread. I bet you remember how many times you ejaculate every night.”

I got up and stood before him. “Spread your hands.”

He didn’t and reeled closer to the bed, now in tears.

“Spread your hands, my lord. This servant will only nip those digits and do nothing more.”

He still didn’t, and I thrust the long nail into his thighs, the screech almost deafening me.

Was it ‘Argh’? Or ‘Bwargh’? I don’t really understand the sound effects well, but it was an ear-splitting scream.

“Spread your hands,” I repeated, and he did this time, his hands folded to a fist. “Do you want to lose your arm?”

He didn’t, for he opened his fingers soon. My battle-ax descended on his fingers immediately, nipping eight of them at once, blood staining the floor as his screams tainted the entire room. The nipped digits rolled to a distance, leaving a distinct trail of blood on the carpet. The forefinger was the winner, for it had almost reached the opposite wall. The smell of blood assuaged the room, growing putrid each passing second, and I froze the bleeding fingers instantly.

“Next your legs,” I said, but he didn’t hear me through his loud wails. I sat on the stool and patiently waited for him to finish wailing.

Maybe I should have brought some bread to pass the time. It would have been quite a luxury to eat bread while slaughtering.

He groveled before me now, his face in tears. “I-I’m so-sorry, Ru-,” he couldn’t finish his words, for I hit his face with the back of my battle-ax and sent him airborne until he collided against the wall opposite the door. Blood splash resembled abstract art, but I hated cleaning, so I let it be.

“Have some pride, Marquis. I groveled before you in the past, and it will only damage my reputation more if you are a whiny brat.”

I walked to him and turned his prostrate body by kicking his abdomen. “If you have some secret stash, let me know where you have stored it. We need money desperately for the next month.”

He didn’t answer, and blood flowed out of his head, staining the carpet soon. Perhaps, I had hit his head too hard because his breath had left him. Should have asked him for money before torturing him.

¹

Spell: [Shadow]

Type: Common spell

Requirement:

• Dark Attribute
• Amateur Low-Tier Mana Reserve
• [Abyss] and [Dark memory]

Description:

²

Spell: [Quagmire]

Type: Curse spell

Requirement:

• Dark Attribute
• Cognoscente Mage
• [Darkness] and [Devil eye]

Description:

A curse spell that kills the target when they perform actions forbidden by the caster.

Mages with Holy attribute are immune to curse spells.