In hindsight, a skeleton soaked in now dried blood wearing armour and equipped with a short sword was a scary thing to behold. In response to the farmer’s panic, I tried to deanimate the waste of soul embers. Except nothing happened.

 

The undead I created were independent creatures that listened to me not summoned or animated. So unless I killed the skeleton myself there was no way to deanimate it. It looked like having an entourage of undead was going to cause problems.

 

“Go hide behind the tree line,” I told the skeleton and it turned to head back the way we had come. The farmer was yelling something but I continued to the city ignoring him.

 

“Fucking freaks,” I heard the farmer grumble as he turned back to his work. I rolled my eyes, at least he wasn’t causing more trouble. Note to self, necromancy is disliked.

 

It was almost mid-morning as I reached the crowded city gates. As it came into focus I marvelled at the genuine medieval city and architecture. Even more so were the people. Most people looked human though some were strangely small, not in the way a child is. Sprinkled through the crowd, however, we’re some that looked far less human. A demonic-looking man carrying bags. A draconic woman was being dragged along. Even a tall green person with tusks.

 

But what put a bad taste in my mouth was their demeanour and attire. Henrick had mentioned slaves but this was just vile. Many wore collars, some even had leashes. One was being kicked as they curled in a ball. Worst of all it was clearly normal. I wanted to burn Llyne to the ground.

 

This was worse than what Anne had suffered and it was normal. My life had ended while trying to purify the world of a vile and despicable person. I had killed Henrick because I could. Because I wanted to, so I could continue my purpose in Anne’s name. I would rid the world of people like Zach Smith one monster at a time.

 

“Whoa there,” a man said, stepping over to block my path with another man on his heels. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a chainmail coif padded armour along with a helmet with a sword at his waist. His uniform was white and gold with an emblem of a golden sun encompassing a white fist on his shoulders. They seemed to be some kind of city guard. “You don’t look so well, we can’t allow anyone to bring a plague into Llyne.”

 

“I’m not sick,” I replied.

 

“Lass,” the other one chuckled. “Your eyes are cloudy and you’re pale as a ghost. I’ve seen people with the plague who look healthier.

 

That made me pause, I hadn’t yet seen a reflection of what I looked like but I hadn’t realized it was that bad.

 

“Who are you?” I asked with a frown.

 

“Who are we? You've been living under a rock or something?” The first man scoffed. “We are guards of the Order of Musado, tasked to protect this holy city from the likes of you. Now get lost.”

 

I held my tongue and turned away. Shouldn’t a holy city have the means to deal with disease? I hadn’t realized I looked that corpselike but I couldn’t see my face. I had no particular reason to go to Llyne but I was already here. What kind of fucking holy city had slaves? Actually scratch that, of course, they did.

 

Despite the guard's words, it was ridiculously easy to sneak in. I just took off my hat and covered myself more with my cloak and slipped in after a shift change.

 

The city opened up into a grand market square and if it were not for the large platform at one end that was a slave market I might have actually enjoyed looking around.

 

I had no money, nowhere to stay and I apparently looked seriously Ill. Not a good starting point.

 

I lingered by the slave auction trying to burn the faces of everyone into my memory. The enslaved on the platform looked utterly defeated and hollow. No spark in their eyes. 

 

The crack of a whip drew my attention to a short fat man with a large beard who was dressed in fine clothing. He held a scourge in one hand and flogged a man with reddish skin and horns who was tied to a pole and was eerily silent.

 

In his other hand held a leash which was attached to the collar of the tiny green dragon-looking girl at his side. She couldn’t be much taller than 3’5 and was younger than me. She was dressed well though only from the waist down. Her front was yellow while the rest of her body was covered in light green scales. Two small horns curved from her head and I could make out a tail behind her. 

 

“Master Humphrey he—“ 

 

“Quiet,” the dwarven man growled. She took a shuddering breath and glanced around, locking eyes with me for just a moment with dull purple eyes before she focused on the ground.

 

It wasn’t until I was leaving, feeling too sick to see anything further that I noticed the scarred brand on the shoulder and the grisly scars which covered the smooth scales of her back. Humphrey, I would remember that name.

 

If I was going to do anything I needed to be stronger but I also needed answers. I didn’t know how to level up beyond collecting soul embers and presumably fighting. I ducked into a nearby store to ask a few questions. Only to stumble to a halt at the sight of the rabbit person standing behind the counter.

 

“You're a rabbit?” I blurted before I could think better of it.

 

“I’m a hare-folk actually,” they corrected. Though they seemed to shrink into themselves more than be offended.

 

“What class are you?” I asked.

 

“Um… this is a smithy, I’m a blacksmith or an apprentice one at least.”

 

“That’s your class? Blacksmith?”

 

“Y-yes?”

 

“Do you earn experience from smithing?”

 

“Yes, I’m sorry I… I’m very confused,” they replied.

 

So you didn’t need to fight to earn experience fighting. If a blacksmith could earn experience smithing then a lich could probably earn experience raising the dead as well.

 

“Oh, I was just curious. Have a good day!” I called as I left just as quickly as I had arrived. It wasn’t much of a surprise that I had to use necromancy in order to get better at necromancy. The only problem was what the hell could I kill and resurrect in a city? My eyes fell upon what looked to be a sewer entrance. 

 

Bonus points for having plumbing, doubly so for presumably the infinite amount of rats that came with it. As I slipped past the grate that was more decorative than anything I was immediately grateful that I could simply hold my breath and not breathe in the sewer air.

 

The walls were stone and it was pretty much entirely black however the sewer was strangely similar to what I knew modern sewers were like on earth. That was strange but it hopefully meant that at least some people had toilets and showers of some kind. In a world with magic, it did make sense, you could replace technology with magic in most places.

 

I summoned the Book of the Dead to see if there was anything new and noticed a new entry under Skeleton. “Practically mindless… Cheap… Cannot use skills from life… Held together by magic.” There was nothing particularly game-changing but it was interesting nonetheless.

 

Returning the book to the ether I continued my trek down the dark and damp sewers. I was not going to smell good after this even if I didn’t notice.

 

I moved as silently as I could, straining my ears until I finally heard the scuffle of a small creature. Activating [Channel Death] green flames leapt from my palm, illuminating the tunnel in dim green light. Several rats scattered at the sudden light but the flames leaped from my hand condensing into an orb… that smacked into the stone as the rats escaped. This was going to be more difficult than I had thought.

 

Being able to see in the dark, however, I lit my hand in green flame and slowly approached until I could see them in the distance but not so close to scare them. The next bolt hit true and I heard a squeak before the other rats scattered. Approaching I noticed two dead rats with small flickering soul embers which I collected.

 

One of the rats looked more like a pile of goo than a rat while the other looked to be almost sleeping. My only guess was that one was far closer to death and had just needed a nudge. I picked up the better-looking one and let the warmth flow from my hand into its body. It twitched a moment later, its eyes fluttering open as the now zombie rat took things in.

 

“Well aren't you adorable,” I cooed. The rat squeaked, maybe in confirmation? It seemed far more alive than the skeleton though that might have just been thanks to it having skin. I placed it on my shoulder and felt its little claws dig into my shoulder and it clung on for dear life. There was probably a joke in there somewhere.

 

Checking the Book of the Dead and the new zombie entry I didn’t learn anything particularly interesting. They were smarter than skeletons, required a more complete body and required more soul embers but they could use the skills the zombie had in life.

 

The more I thought about it, the more valuable it seemed. I didn’t know a lot about skills but this would allow me to get zombies that could do the things I very much couldn’t. I didn’t have access to teleportation magic but I could have a zombie that did.

Rat hunting as it turned out was not a particularly successful job and a few hours later I still hadn’t leveled up. I didn’t bother animating any other rats beyond Franklyn, my zombie rat. To make matters worse I was lost.

 

Light down the tunnel drew my attention and I crept forward silently sticking to the shadows.

 

“I don’t like meeting in the middle of the day,” a masculine voice said, he sounded exhausted.

 

“I know I know, I just wanted you to know it worked. The ambush went perfectly and we managed to rescue everyone,” a second voice replied, this one feminine and determined.

 

I couldn’t be certain but I was pretty sure they were discussing the ambush I had come across. It hadn’t been bandits, it had rebels.

 

“I’m glad Cleo, I really am. But Lord Humphrey is just going to take his frustration out on everyone. Hell, he killed Amris in the market this morning. We can’t keep doing this.”

 

“I know it’s horrible but we can’t give up, not now.”

 

I peeked around the corner to see a lithe tall woman with pointy ears talking to a short young man with gray skin and eight black eyes.

 

If I was going to make friends these were the kind of people I needed as allies. Mostly since we seemed to have similar goals. I needed a stepping stone into this world so I took a risk.

 

“The next time you ambush a group make sure they are all dead. You’re lucky I was there to clean up a loose end,” I said, making them both jump as I stepped into the room.

 

“Who the hell are you,” the elven woman, Cleo, growled, sounding more scared than intimidating. The man seemed to shrink back from my presence.

 

“W-what are you?” He gasped. Those eyes probably let him see me clearly even cloaked in shadows, unlike the elf.

 

“The name’s Morgan,” I said with a friendly smile holding up my hands. “I come in peace despite my complexion.”

 

“What do you want?” Cleo asked, glancing at the spider-eyed man.

 

“Well, ideally information, I’m new to Sloffanil and could use some help getting settled. I encountered the results of your ambush and I have a bone to pick with this Lord Humphrey. I’m more than happy to help in whatever capacity I can.”

 

I knew they would be guarded so I was as truthful as I could be. We weren’t exactly on the same boat but we were definitely in the same lake.

 

“You just coincidentally show up here and expect us to trust you?” The spider-eyed man finally spoke up.

 

“I was hunting rats and got lost,” I shrugged.

 

“Right…” Cleo scoffed.

 

I pulled Franklyn out of a pouch in my bag where I had hidden him away to keep him out of the way. “This is Franklyn,” I offered.

 

Animals seemed to have the same disarming effect they did on Earth though I was mostly getting confused looks.

 

“How do we know you're not part of the Order, of even working for Lord Humphrey?” Cleo finally asked.

 

“The Order of Musado? I’m not working for the city guard and if I have a moment alone with this Humphrey I would be more than happy to put a dagger through his heart,” I replied.

 

They both glanced at each other. The spider-eyes man shrugged and nodded. “The Order of Musado is so much more than the city guard. They have power all over Sloffanil and work with the royal family. They’re fanatic so-called holy warriors of Oysus who hate the ‘monstrous’ races and crusades all over Semul.”

 

“Semul?” I asked, trying to piece this all together.

 

“The continent we’re on…” Cleo replied.

 

“I see,” I added, not wanting to elaborate.

 

“We found the rebels!” A voice yelled from the tunnels. Stomping around the corner was a man who was a giant of a man. He was wearing plate mail and wielding a claymore. Two other less scary guards followed him.

 

“You heretics will burn at my blade,” he growled as he raised his sword and began to rush down the tunnel, his sword beginning to glow with white light as he approached.