Chapter 48: My story

Riven gritted his teeth. He knew Spartacus must be thinking the same thing as her, but judging by the way he was sent flying, Riven knew who was stronger, and she didn’t even use any technique, just sword clashing.

No way was he going to let her ruin his undead. The strongest he had currently. He scowled. “Stop trying to fight my undead, Kivara.”

“Huh?” She didn’t relax. She only frowned. “Your undead?”

“Yes. Meet Spartacus, my undead summon!”

Kivara blinked twice as she looked at Spartacus. She narrowed her eyes and stared more intently, her gaze like knives trying to see beneath his skin. Suddenly, she gasped. “But how? He’s just like a human, even the imitation of a heartbeat. Where did you get him?”

“No. How do you make such an undead?”

Kivara took several steps back so she could keep her eyes on both Riven and Spartacus at the same time. Suddenly, she felt like Riven might have been playing her since the beginning and was only hiding his power as an old monster practitioner.

Riven rubbed his hands together. He couldn’t help the warm feeling that suddenly bloomed and spread in his heart. He was proud to be able to make her react like that to his undead summon.

He took a dark, gleeful joy from it. “Yes… look at that! It’s my undead, and I killed him… wait till I evolve him… I can’t wait then…”

It was human nature to be arrogant, and Riven accepted a bit of ego in his life, especially for things he had worked hard for. The only problem was when a person began to overestimate their own powers.

Riven had a very clear boundary of what he could do. As such, a bitter smile spread across his lips. “Have you forgotten I’m a slave to THAT? Spartacus was my target. This was my reward… I think.”

Even his tone turned dark. The thought that he was tied and shackled to that Death Ledger was like sharp metal on his skin.

Kivara relaxed a little. “You did tell me, but I didn’t expect it to be like that! A strong warrior like this… how did you manage to defeat him?”

Riven shrugged and ignored her last question. Instead, he corrected her. “Him. Don’t call him ’it.’”

He couldn’t perfectly describe the reason, but he felt like Spartacus wasn’t the type of lowly undead that should be addressed as “it.” It just felt wrong.

Kivara just nodded, her eyes shining. “He’s strong. All his muscles work perfectly. It’s like I’m fighting a living person. And his reaction! He must have fought a lot to be able to be like this! And what’s with the sword? It’s like fire mixed with blood. What type of technique is he using? I feel like his fighting style was the type that was made on the battlefield and not…”

Riven could only stare at her. “I didn’t know you were interested in that kind of thing… raw fighting.”

Kivara hissed. “Ah! If I could choose my own Sigil, then it would be like all those physical ones. Think about it. The body would be a weapon, the only thing needed to fight. And when you clash with another, there would be nothing hidden as fists smash into faces! No lies! Just blood and fists!”

Again, Riven was at a loss. He remembered then that he didn’t truly know Kivara. “So you like fighting warriors.”

She smiled, and a dark glint lit up her face. “I like fighting, but unfortunately, my physical abilities are poor compared to other warriors of the same rank. Although I’ll outshine them in technique, that’s why I’m trying to be very good with the sword instead.”

“Oh… come to think of it, anytime there’s trouble, she’s always bringing out her sword…”

As they were talking, the bandage funeral undead was wailing around the village, trying to rebuild the collapsed buildings, but it was useless. And so its wailing continued, getting louder and more shrill until suddenly it stopped and turned to them, pointing at them. “I should kill you! You two bastards deserve death!”

They turned to the undead. Kivara asked curiously, “Then why are you not killing us? Besides, what’s the worth of this village anyway?”

The undead ignored her question about it not fighting them. Instead, it focused on the other question. “The worth of this village? I’ll tell you! It’s my masterpiece. One that was made with both blood and sweat. It contains my vengeance.”

“I will tell you my story!”

Kivara rolled her eyes. “We don’t want to hear it. Get us out of here instead.”

But the undead didn’t listen to her as it wailed. “I was born right here in this village at the edge of the Shadowwood. My father was a practitioner of the first rank, which made it possible to hunt the lowest of the monsters he could see around.

“This made it possible for us to be the richest in the village. And then my Sigil awoke, and I turned out to be one of the countless geniuses of necromancy. I was sent to a sect to learn, and as a genius, my power rose by leaps. I soared!

“But then a great famine happened here. The people didn’t dare go close to the Shadowwood for fear of the monsters that lurked. They had no resources to trade with. But my family had food, so the village turned on them like ants and killed my family. In revenge, I went into this village and turned everyone into undead. I didn’t stop there but made their bodies into their prison.”

The undead began to wail again, shouting about revenge and all that. Kivara and Riven exchanged looks before he cleared his throat. “When you became a practitioner, why didn’t you take them out of the village? You could have moved them into bigger cities.”

The black bandage undead turned its red flickering eyes to him. “My parents? Oh, they were bad parents. I was only angry at the villagers because they killed them before I could!”

Riven took a step back in shock. What the fuck?

Kivara shrugged and tapped the side of her head as if saying, “Insane and mad.” “Then how did you become an undead yourself?”

Immediately, the temperature dropped.

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