Bro, I'm not an Undead!



As hard as it was to believe, Theurien was still holding Jadin and Somwell captive within a room in the grand mansion. Skullius had expected a different premise for their story, but it seemed the three really went way back, and with quite a bit of unsavoury history.

He met up with Silrat who had a hollow look on his face, as if the conversations he had heard had punched an indentation into it.

According to the former Association Branch Head, his self-introduction – who he was and his role – had been well accepted by Theurien, Red Rage's too. Even the short discussion that Theurien had had with Silrat in Jadin and Somwell's presence had been pleasant.

It had turned sour, however, when the fiery haired stallion had shifted his perspective to the guests whom he didn't address with any kind of warmth.

The more Theurien spoke, the more Silrat sank and even Red Rage got uncomfortable with how things were going.

As it turned out, Jadin and Somwell had been friends of Theurien long ago, but they grew apart from each other when they had a rather complicated disagreement that mainly involved Theurien wanting their three Families to create a large, influential network.

Jadin's territory was to the west of the Bryne Estate and Somwell's to the north. Theurien had proposed that they create a triangular trade route spilling to the west that exploited the lack of large, older Families within the three-pointed enclosure.

It would include all interested Families within it. If they wanted to participate they would, and if they didn't, the three Families would not bother them or even interact within their demesnes.

There was little risk, and acceptance pretty much guaranteed more benefits than otherwise.

Theurien's inspiration for this had come from his studying of the more popular arrangement in the Isise, and the lesser and largely unimpressive one that was the Belvion Union. The difference between what these cities and towns had built, and what he proposed was the scale of operation, which was much more vast.

To this grand idea, Jadin and Somwell refused.

Their reasons, put as bluntly as could be because they had been close friends with Theurien, largely revolved around fear.

Fear that success would attract larger Families and unknown organisations.

Fear that none of them had the capacity to defend the route.

Fear that Theurien's vast connections would lead him to eventually ignore his lesser partners.

Yes!

The last fear was no secret! Theurien was well connected. Be it with great Mages or with great common noblemen. The only hole in his tight network, was his Family, which depended massively on what he had build and his individual power.

This carrot shaped pedestal that Theurien sat upon was what made Jadin and Somwell hesitate.

In the end, the two friends claimed that they saw no merit in diving into any projects that, at the end of the day, would largely be based on his personal prowess but with no substance from his Family as a whole, or from theirs as well.

In the long-run, what would probably be driving the route, and innovating interested parties within it, were people attracted to Theurien and his largely set networks.

This had hurt Theurien more than he imagined.

There was some element of truth in what his friends said, but that was only with the idea that he would somehow forget them when things really got moving.

Would he really?

Did they think their friendship meant nothing to him?

Nevertheless, the three's relationship had never been the same since then, and it drifted unsteadily until Theurien was suddenly made one with his bed.

Before then though, Theurien had deeply considered if he was the only one who was strong within his Family. Was everyone else weak?

Had he failed at the most basic principle in the world, that one's own home was where the building began?

Perhaps.

Yet, that conversation from the past had come up today and the result, was ambiguous.

"Well... maybe he won't enjoy my gift as much after all," Skullius said with a heavy sigh, slumping on a thick, buff grey couch.

"Gift, huh? It sure is," Silrat said while looking out the window.

Outside it, a gorgeous semi-transparent curtain, as if woven using the scales of the corpse of the Incandescent Silver Trout god – maybe it existed – hung up in the air, improving the view of everything far and wide.

"You really did have plans, after all."

"I told you I did!" Skullius snapped.

Silrat chuckled as he drew his eyes back to the Hybrid Luman.

"Well, at least the racket you were making outside allowed me an opening to leave that dreadful conversation," he said while also taking a seat. "Even this one's charm was killed within it."

Silrat pointed to Red Rage who was silently seated on a wooden chair in the corner of the room, his gauntlet on the chin of his helm. He sat with his legs spread apart, his elbow on his lap, and with an unnatural, serene glow around him.

The profundity of a Knight clad in the finest gold and pristine white armour, an aegis that in majesty was close to one that a King would don in a war of ages, seated on a mundane wooden chair, would have had the Aigas version of Shakespeare – Shakenknife? – writing tens of plays with a grateful tear on his cheek.

"I thought it was getting too positive in here. Knock it off!" Skullius snapped again, causing Red Rage to sit up straight.

"Sorry."

"Speaking of plans, I still have stuff to do with you. Urgh, the wording," Skullius said in disgust, but while keeping a finger pointed at the Apostle still.

Before he segued to the next plot point though, Silrat intervened.

"You know, I've been thinking..."

"Yes?" Skullius turned to him.

"The recent events... We enjoyed a full month and more of peace, but today everything just seemed to turn disgruntled. In all honesty, ever since I met you, my life has picked up its pace. There were many things I didn't even dream of doing yet that I've already accomplished. Things are changing, Festos. Quickly. The status quo never stays still and usually, something bad happens, a brief respite, and then something worse comes..."

Skullius frowned.

"So? It's not exactly too strange. It can happen to anyone," Skullius felt that statement had all sorts of utter bullshit when he said it, and thus added onto it. "I mean, not everyone is lucky all the time, right?"

"I know, of course. But... I just really have a bad feeling. The Royale begins close to a month from now. If the previous patterns are to be considered, it'll be peaceful until then. But the Royale... its likely to be a disaster. As we speculated before," Silrat folded his arms with a grave look on his face.

Skullius began to understand what he was getting at.

"You haven't fought your second match in the Second Round of the Preliminaries. So you haven't secured your spot as a contender for the main event, the Royale. Why don't you drop out? It's possible for contenders right? If you lose in the match, you'll be disqualified, and I'll just wait out the Royale. No doubt a battle of everyone that remains may last for at most a day or two."

"...I see."

"Better yet, you could just use a weapon above Legendary grade and get yourself out of the contention if losing isn't too good for you in the face of the public. You know as much as I do that you could be in danger."

Skullius remained silent for a while.

Silrat was right.

It had only been made apparent that contenders, unlike witnesses could be expelled from the games and the Venue altogether after losing to their opponents in the Second Preliminary Rounds or striking a draw.

Skullius had this option to bail on the Royale, since he was suspicious of what it was leading up to. He had been for a long time.

Many were as well, but they participated anyway, with the thought that the EverSword House couldn't do anything too insidious since it was, at the end of the day, just one of the many forces in Pelian and Feinheath as a whole.

Yet...

"Do you really think the Game Master will allow it?" Skullius said.

Silrat sighed.

He too had thought about this.

Guissepo.

The two knew for a fact that the extravagant man knew about them, that they knew him, and that they knew what he knew, that he knew a lot of like-minded people who knew the real, impure purpose of the Royale that remained in the largely unknown.

As a result...

"I doubt he would let me out of sight. Me being bound to the game is probably something he can control. Even if that isn't the case, many people I care about are still entangled in the game. People I'm bound to by responsibility to take care of, and people I need no force, mandate or effort to want to be safe," Skullius' hand landed on Silrat's shoulder, a rare meaningful smile on his face.

The end of Silrat's lip trembled a bit and he shook his head.

"Seeing it to the end then?"

"Seeing it to the end."

That was the conclusion.

Instead of possibly bailing and leaving everyone else – Daggs, Terese and Silrat who were witnesses – to an ambiguous fate, Skullius decided he'd be right there as a contender at the Venue until they reached the result of the Premium Age Royale.

"Fine then," Silrat said.

"Now!" Skullius said with a sharp tone, before rushing to Red Rage, swinging his arm around the Apostle's neck and dragging him away.

The Hybrid Luman, while he had a mission to complete, was in quite a bit of a hurry to hide his glassy eyes.

Somehow, when he said what he said to Silrat, he felt an irritation deep within the bowels of his soul that made him feel...vulnerable.

He meant what he said, but he didn't want to feel this strange feeling.

It reminded him of what he felt when Darwel talked about parents.

It reminded him of his supposed adopted sister, Camilla.

It reminded him of Somanda's words. That his fellow Moronic Undead were needy attachment hogs because of Undeath.

He didn't want to feel this right now.

Not when so many things were cascading down his little valley of life.

The Null Devil King, Aurolio, the mysterious ancient page and now Theurien's awakening.

To cope with it all, he wanted to do something that made him feel in control.

Unbeknownst to him though, the skeleton clad in a pristine armour that he was dragging to the open fields behind the mansions knew exactly how he was feeling.

He felt the turmoil his master was feeling but chose to pretend he didn't know.

The truth was, Red Rage knew it all through his mental connection with Skullius. With his growth, he was able to exploit its reverse function, unlike a weaker Apostle like Ferex. Or perhaps also...

For now, all he could was make sure Skullius was distracted, as he wanted.

That he could do.

As they reached a sufficiently clear space, Skullius expelled a massive cauldron from his spatial storage.

The Hundred Foils Edifying Cauldron.

It was massive and ancient-looking, with rust and a archaic air about it.

Its basic function was to refine natural products of the earth, extracting their nutrients to create temporary and supernatural effects that could be applied to living bodies.

It was time to put this function to use.

Skullius remembered that Hobbu Gogo used a set of runes on the floor to her place to heat up the contents of the cauldron. Since that entire city was in Red Rage's cape, Skullius felt it would be a drag to go there just to brew potions.

Maybe he wouldn't even be able to ignite the runes, since he wasn't able to use the Conjuring Gravel Runes yet.

Thus...

"[Ungodly Flames of Debauchery]," Skullius said.

A deep flame burned under the cauldron, and Skullius, with a big smile collected a large amount of materials; herbs, seeds, branches among many others which he had collected from Hobbu Gogo's quarters and laid them on the ground in relevant portions.

The Hybrid Luman laughed.

Before Red Rage knew it, Skullius had placed a palm on his chestplate, pushing him back enthusiastically.

"Back up bro. Let me cook!"