“Wow… They’re already working on the roofs?” I asked when we arrived at the worksite. Progress on one of the barns was ahead of schedule. Our foreman was already barking orders at the folks coming for the morning shift exchange, so the place was lively. People were always working at all hours of the day, so it was really a non-stop affair.  

“Seems so,” replied my probation officer. “The duchess told me a group of Falconkin carpenters arrived before midnight.” He pointed to the pile of metal shingles the roofers brought. “It’s best to leave that to the ones who can fly.”  

“I can agree.”  

“Ah? It’s you lot.” The foreman approached us.   

“Where do you want us?” asked Momo.   

“We have some planks that need painting. Suppose ye could start decorating the fence since that’s due to be completed in three days. Time it right so we can move to the barns without delay.”  

“Painting? I can help, right? It’s not hard, so someone like me can handle that.” Olga asked. She was still in the wheelchair, but her cheeks were more defined. Weight was healthily returning to her. Her recovery was something to witness. 

“Aye,” the foreman said, squatting down as he smiled—the rough bastard had a good heart. He was crass and crude, but the man loved his work. This homestead was his project—its success or failure reflected on him. “I’m thinking ye might be good at it. Do a well-enough job, and I’ll have a proper reward for ye.”  

Olga thanked him, and it was time to begin. Albert returned to my ring to handle the city’s construction in Itarr's absence since she desired to use this time to relax her mind. 

The day progressed normally, except the positive atmosphere was somehow more infectious. This work was therapeutic—the perfect distraction for a creative goddess. The glossy, white paint reminded me of a stereotypical picket fence. Of course, absorbing the fence line to have our undead army handle the labor would’ve been faster, but time wasn’t an issue. So, why not take it slow? Why not allow things to naturally happen instead of rushing? 

Merka had a task. His manufactured golems couldn’t handle complex duties, but painting wasn't an elaborate chore. The foreman piled on the praise for them. It was a heartwarming sight.    

Suddenly, an idea popped into my mind during lunch. Momo said I had a funny look on my face.  

“Hmm… Hey, Percival?”  

“Yes?” answered the bodyguard with a mouthful sandwich. He quickly cleared his throat, then apologized for the unprofessionalism. That wasn’t like him. Did something happen? 

Even a pretty boy prefect like him has a few off-moments. 

“Do you think the duchess would want pictures of our progress?”  

“Pictures?” Bianco and Nero were confused. “Do you mean paintings? How would that help?”   

“Kinda? Pictures are instant paintings.” I aimed my phone at the koena, who flinched when they heard the snap. A moment later, I offered them the photo.   

"Eh? Wait, is that...us? But how?" Nero touched the photo. His eyes widened in astonishment.   

“You guys can keep it,” I said, snapping a pic of the foreman. He didn’t know how to take it. Actually, he was almost…afraid? No, it was uncertainty flooding his boggled expression.   

“I don’t think it would hurt,” replied Percival, who dwelled on it. “Written reports are one thing, but visual proof is far more substantial. It will help the crown realize how rapidly the homestead is progressing.”  

“Okay, then. I guess that’s what I’ll do after lunch.”  

The rest of the day was decided. After eating, I biked around and took a few dozen pictures of the outside before doing the same inside. Everything had to be documented, right? I left no wall or room unrecorded. Percival’s eyes couldn’t believe the stack of photos he had to deliver.   

“Here.” I turned to the foreman. “I made copies for you.”  

“Why me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? This is your project. It’s a testament to your leadership, so add them to your portfolio. Use this to negotiate a bigger paycheck with your next client.”  

“Oh, lassie. Ye didn’t have to do that.”  

“But I did,” I replied, picking up a paintbrush. The bossman dropped the topic, so we continued until the skies were touched by the sun’s crimson departure. The dwarf was true to his word when he gifted Olga a just reward for a hard day’s work.  

A fishing rod.   

He said he made one after hearing how much she loved to fish. Olga couldn’t refrain from crying. She promised to take excellent care of it, hugging it close to her chest as we returned to the Crimson Grotto.   

Dinner was enjoyable. Albert had whipped up a delectable feast of breakfast and dinner menu items to change things up, including a few healthy stacks of fluffy pancakes smothered with honey-soaked berries. I was partial to the juicy steak, and those grilled sweet potatoes also hit the spot.   

Honestly? When you have as much money as Nimyra? Even out-of-season produce was within reach since, at that point, wealth didn’t matter. Because it was so impossibly hard to spend it all. But the kind Drow Elf wasn’t greedy. Nor was she someone who made wealth her personality.   

Olga’s exhaustion prevented her from keeping her eyes open, so she hit the hay early—never letting go of her precious present. Merka worked on making a fishing rod for himself in their room. Momo, Ni-Ni, Itarr, and I chatted in the bath before getting to bed.  

We had things to do, so we quickly met up inside the soul world after getting in bed. 

While we anxiously waited for the framework update to deploy, I asked about something stirring in the back of my mind.  

“Accessories…for our phones?” inquired the goddess. We were at her tower’s dining room, enjoying a delicious post-meal dessert of cookies. 

“Yeah. Maybe to provide some personality?”  

“What did you have in mind?” asked the nun. Carrie never left Verta’s side for longer than necessary. She was almost always near her.   

“Mainly cases. Ringtones, too. Maybe you could make them assignable to specific contacts.”  

“Hmm…” Itarr closed her eyes for a moment before summoning her laptop. “Can you put your phones on the table?” We did as she asked. After some furious typing… “What do you want your case to be, Servi?” 

“Blue and green,” I replied, thinking about Momo’s and Srassa’s eyes. We matched our pajamas, so why not this? My phone flashed a second later, and there it was—an added splash of personality.   

Itarr then asked the others. Momo wanted red and green with vixarian ears on top, which was granted. Carrie meekly requested pastel colors to represent Verta, who asked for a red one. Albert wanted blue. Fisher wanted a brown and green one.   

That just left Itarr, who decided to go multi-colored. It was a little mix of everything, which suited her as the Primordial Goddess.    

Now came the ringtones. Itarr said she could do it after I brought up recording equipment. Discovering how to encode sound would go a long way to implementing the video functionality. My goddess first looked at the speakers. When I told her how hard drives stored data, Verta's suggestions eclipsed my technical knowledge.   

A voice memo app was soon added. “That’s what I sound like?” Momo was almost shocked as I played a clip I had recorded.    

“Okay… I can transfer audio into data to be retrieved later… How do I…connect it to the method overseeing the phone functionality…? No, maybe I should combine it with the camera? A video is nothing but a picture being constantly taken every frame with the audio overlayed on top, right?” Itarr was lost in her little world as she tapped away on her laptop.  

Unfortunately, she was stumped—but my goddess wasn’t defeated. She sighed, closed her laptop, and drank the delicious coffee Albert had prepared.   

We discussed her progress. Itarr found it easier to solve her problems by rambling about them. While we couldn’t keep up with her technical prowess, listening to her passionate chatter was a joy. That glimmer in her eyes… I loved it when Itarr displayed that sparkle. Her happiness was mine.   

I knew this wouldn’t keep her down for long. 

*****

---

*****

Midnight approached as we waited near the fountain with bated breaths. In hindsight, the stress was unneeded since the framework update was deployed without issue. It was as seamless as it could’ve been.   

“Okay, so the app’s definitely different,” I said, clicking on it.  The user interface had changed to suit the new progression system.  

As predicted, we were Lv. 1.  

[Summon Undead] [Create Undead], [Revenant], [Bone Conjuration], and [Life Manipulation] were automatically unlocked since those categories were grandfathered in. Ironically, those were the first five to be unlocked—in that order. [Decay] was next at Lv. 30.     

I retrieved my scythe, created a low-tier undead, and watched the exp bar jump by about ten percent.   

“It moved for me, too.”  

“Allow me to try.” Albert summoned a basic zombie—not create—and learned the blood crystal cost was reduced by half. The undead manifested in a crimson haze. Better yet, we earned experience for it.   

“Is it because you hold a ring? You are a revenant, but this seems like another loophole.”  

“It’s a good one, right?” Momo looked at me.   

“Definitely. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining or anything. I wish we could’ve used that 2 NP before, but the other categories were expensive. I didn’t know the price would jump from 1 to 4…”  

“At least it’s based on level. We’ll unlock everything if we put in the work,” added my goddess. “We have a few thousand blood crystals in the vault. I can’t make any more pumps or refineries.”  

“What about the space? Where are the undead going to hang out?”  

“What about my island?”  

“Are you sure?”  

“Yep. It’s totally fine. I got a lot of space." 

“Okay,” I replied. “If you say so. Thanks, Momo.”  

“You’re welcome.”   

We spent the night expanding our army’s ‘infantry.' 

A few hours later...  

We must’ve had over 800 low-tier spiders and rats chilling out. That pushed our [Necromancy] to Lv.10, but progress slowed dramatically. The diminishing returns were overbearingly harsh. Napkin math estimated we needed another thousand low-tiers to get us to Lv. 11. Instead, we swapped to the mid-tiers. One mummy sent us halfway to the next level, and we had enough for twelve. No, the vault could support creating 24, but we agreed to have a healthy stockpile for a rainy day.   

You could never be too cautious, after all.   

“Are you thinking about Vanessa? You’ve been staring at your phone for a while,” observed Momo. We were taking a small break while she petted an undead rat. They weren’t so much cute as… friendly? Momo was a vixarian—an evolution of singi. Cats also hunted mice. She did say she wasn’t afraid of them. Likewise, the undead couldn't feel fear, so they weren't running away. 

“I know it won’t be her. But I still want to create another arachnecrosis weaver.”  

“Then you should do it. I don’t know how the personality pool works. Except there’s a chance, you know? They won’t be the same Vanessa, but maybe this arachnecrosis weaver will be on the hunt for its honey? They might succeed in getting married.”  

“Wouldn’t that be nice? Okay. I’ll do it.” I readied my scythe. The edge glowed crimson as I felt a few hundred crystals vanish from the vault deep under Itarr’s tower. I raised my catalyst, cut the ground, and waited…  

Please… Come back, Vanessa…  

“Ahhh…” The feminine, slightly aristocratic haughtiness tickled my ears as the spider monster clawed from the ground. “Ohohoho! Not even death shall keep me from my eternal search! Oh, my darling husband must be out there!”  

“Vanessa?!” I exclaimed.   

“Alas, it is I, my darling creator!”  

“You remember us?”  

“Indeed. We first met when you were in a precarious position. I fell defending the city from those unceremonious dullards. Ugh… How shameful…”  

“You were okay with dying?” 

“Ohohoho! Death to the undead is a vacation, my creator. What you experience is passed to your creations. A refined, sophisticated noble like myself could not claim to be an aristocrat of the highest order if I allowed something as insignificant as dying get to me. Oh? What’s this? Has the little cat changed?” Those eyes blinked.   

“Yep. I’m a vixarian now,” Momo said with pride.    

“Vixarian… The name isn’t familiar, but happiness is in order, yes? Hmm… Ah!” The spider raised an elongated, frightening leg like she had an idea. “I must prepare a gift. After all, these are given when good things happen or milestones are reached.” Vanessa spun a web and made a spectral, glowing bow. She delicately placed it on Momo’s head. “Ohohoho! Enjoy it, little fox!”  

“Thanks! I wish I had the one you gave me last time.”  

“Ah, fret not about it, little fox. Hmm… Now, where is Victor… Oh, I must hear him purr my name in that deep, sexy voice of his… Ohohoho!” The spider laughed as she skittered away.   

“I guess we were lucky,” said Momo. She smiled as Vanessa pestered Victor, although he wasn’t upset or annoyed. The undead were… alive, in a way, but they didn’t know anything they weren't designed to innately understand.   

“We were, but I was praying she’d answer my call.” I turned to Momo. “What if…that’s the key? We know Itarr’s a loophole. She made the [Forbidden Skill System], so she has influence over it. If it’s not limited to the changes to the overarching system…then what if her feelings play a role? I wished for Vanessa, so Vanessa appeared.”  

“You might be onto something. Why not test it again?”  

I looked through the personality list for the icy ghouls. Only one could speak. “We could use one. Maybe it can lead the others.”  

“Go for it. I’ll cheer you on, ‘kay?” Momo smiled as I sacrificed another few hundred crystals. 

The groaning monster clawed its way up from the ground before screeching, but it wasn’t nonsense.   

All at once, the other ghouls ran like the frantic wind, kneeling before the icy one. It turned to me. “Victory…assured… Mighty…ghouls…kill…enemies…” It growled in a raspy, burnt voice.  It screeched once more before departing.  

“Once is a coincidence, but two isn't. That’s what my grampy told me.” Momo jumped to my side and touched my hips with her tail. “Anyway… What do you wanna do? Keep creating?”  

“Mm… No. Let’s give it a break. The island’s getting full. I’ll talk to Itarr and see if she can expand it.”  

“Training, then? You gotta practice geomancy, right? Why don’t you use the mirror as target practice? Think you can handle a sling?”  

“Is that a challenge?”  

Momo somersaulted away. Her mirror appeared in a flash, twirling before balancing on her head. “They say foxes are playfully tricky, so consider this me trying to get in touch with my vixarian nature.”  

“Then let’s begin,” I kneeled, retrieved my conduit, and crafted a sling and ammo. The projectiles weren’t stable, but they lasted long enough.   

*****

---

*****

Life continued in a cycle for the next six days. It was gradual, but the weather became colder. Night seemed to come sooner than the previous day. You couldn't see a green leaf, so you knew it was the middle of fall.   

We were always at the homestead. We never missed a day. However, there wasn't much for us to do at this stage. You could only do so much when everything else was finished. Paint could only dry so quickly, even with assistance from the fire mages.  

Digging the wells to the expected safety standards took two days, and laying the piping took one more. Fisher joined the night crew and absorbed the pipes, and we handled the bulk of the labor inside the ring before he retrieved the finished product. 

But it was coming together in a nice package. Most of the buildings were getting their finishing touches. They had to be furnished, of course. That wasn’t the foreman’s problem. He actually became really invigorated when it was time to dig the basements. He led volunteers, knocking that task out in a few days since they worked from sunrise to sunset. Carrie said dwarves loved that kind of stuff. They were all about digging holes, mining, and making stuff. Merka’s magic helped soften the soil while hardening the surrounding layers. Of course, this wasn’t the only failsafe. The foreman was big on safety, so there were many support beams to reduce the chances of a cave-in.    

I probably went a little crazy with the pictures.  Nimyra was so pretty that I had to capture her cooking dinner. Then there was Claire and Nimyra working hard in paint-covered overalls. I knew they’d enjoy a few images.  

When they visited, I snapped a few of Fisher’s daughters gleefully riding their bikes while their worried father chased after them. 

Momo and I were dedicated to our training at night. Spamming mid-tiers got us to Lv. 20 before the diminishing returns reared its ugly head.  It wasn’t worth the experience to blood crystal ratio—even if it made our army that much stronger. But we had a few dozen skeleton captains who commanded their personal squadrons. Any further progression would come from absorbing souls or creating high-tiers.  But that skill required a ton of NP. Itarr estimated we would need to be Lv. 40 or 45 to have enough to purchase it.  

Honestly? The skills in [Summon Undead] weren’t worth it because [Create Undead] was so much better. We could’ve bought something in [Bone Conjuration] or [Life Manipulation]. [Soul Drain], [Vitality Drain], and [Life Weave] caught my eye. The first two drained the target’s soul or mortal body, but the third… The description said it enabled the caster to see the Life Weave—an invisible force representing life force. By unwinding it, you could erase a person—and kill them. But the opposite was true. One could wind the thread of an injured person to encourage the body to heal.   

It was probably more related to healing magic, but it deserved to be in [Life Manipulation] more than [Heart Clutch]. The skill’s inclusion was-- most likely-- an oversight or placeholder since Itarr had been focused on the experience framework.    

We didn’t spend NP, though. My goddess and I agreed to save our resources for a rainy day. Even disregarding our rapidly growing army, we had [Heart Clutch] and [Earth Manipulation] to even the playing field.   

It was funny. A few months ago, I was concerned that I’d never get as strong as I was when I could stack skills. While I still wasn’t close…  

The gap was closing. Geomancy alone held infinite untapped potential that needed to be coerced. If the limit was your imagination, did it mean it had no restriction? A geomancer could do frightening things like splitting tectonic plates, causing a country to float away. I couldn’t imagine the power needed to accomplish that feat, but Verta said it was possible.    

Momo and I would go on hikes in our soul world to relax our minds when we were tired of training. We'd bike, skate, and snap a ton of pictures. Momo also got more creative with her wardrobe since she didn’t ‘need’ armor. She had, nonetheless, commissioned a blacksmith to resize her chainmail. It was always within the ring—just waiting to be worn. 

It didn’t take long to have a collage of happy memories on Nimyra’s wall. It was fun adding to it—as long as the ones taken inside the ring were kept there. In secret, though, we showed Ni-Ni our soul world via those photos, who found it breathtakingly gorgeous. Itarr had cutely blushed at the praise.  

Our soul world progressed more every day. Itarr expanded Momo’s island by 80%, which housed our fighting force. It became our unofficial military district, but Momo didn’t mind it. She was glad it was being used.    

Itarr soon learned about ‘activity limits,’ which prevented alterations from occurring after mandating too many ‘world changes.’ Verta said Itarr implemented this rule long ago to encourage evolution from their children with minimal divine interference. 

I hadn’t tested letting a regular person swallow a blood crystal chip, so as of now? The beautiful world we were nurturing was mostly for show. It wasn't a waste, though. If anything, it was nice to see something develop so quickly. Then again, all the residents were undead. They were handling the menial labor. Any substantial changes would happen within a few hours of the order being given.    

Vanessa had built a cozy nest near the newly added mountains. The low-tier spiders naturally migrated to her base. 

The military district had two leaders. The revenant warlord oversaw our physical might. The mighty skeleton was soft-spoken, which didn’t fit his brutish image. Nyxaris the Darkmagus presided over the ranged division. Magically inclined undead were often restricted to mid-tier and above, but Lesser Liches were expensive. It would take almost 80% of an entire day to create one. While we could have done that, we were playing it safe.   

Why spend resources when things were going well? If shit hit the fan, we could drain our vault to take our foes by surprise by unleashing a decaying horde of zombies. 

Again, it was better to be cautious.    

[Necromancy] was awesome. It really was. You could sustain an empire of the dead and have thousands of monsters with undying loyalty. If you accepted their variable personalities, however.  

We also continued to spar with our instructors. Momo learned to fight more in sync with her mirror as if it were an extension of her body. Using it to wallop her opponents upside the head worked well, as did using it as a turret to constantly launch [Acid Arrow] or [Magic Missile]. 

Dissolving and manifesting it was also a worthwhile tactic. Momo could, for example, will it away, then conjure it behind her enemy to attack them from behind. Its one weakness was its durability.    

It couldn’t survive a gentle tap, let alone a hardened strike from Albert or Fisher.  

Time just soared by. Every day felt shorter than the one before. The duchess confirmed our letters were delivered, but we never received a reply. I guess that made sense if you thought about it. National security was something the kingdom couldn’t skirt around. Srassa was Harold’s daughter, who was socially very powerful. He couldn’t let anything happen to her, so she had to be safeguarded to the point where she couldn’t even write a letter?   

Duchess Ashford also hadn’t found anything about Saline or Cue. She was looking, but I wondered if whoever was looking after her had those two in hiding. If so, then the failed investigation made sense. But I couldn’t deny this urge to…fly to the capital.   

I just wanted to know if they were okay. That was all.   

Not just them—Bunbun, too. Arcton was getting better. The city was healing, but the skeleton priest still hadn’t found her.    

So, the worst came to my mind. 

Bunbun was probably dead.   

That wasn’t right.    

It really wasn’t. Bunbun didn’t deserve to die. She was a good woman.