The Unwanted Undead Adventurer: Volume 1 E-Book

Yu Okano

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Rentt Faina, a twenty-five-year-old adventurer, has been hacking away at monsters for a decade. However, without much talent for the job, Rentt finds himself stuck hunting slimes and goblins for meager amounts of coin every day. Little does he know, all this is about to change when he comes across a seemingly undiscovered path in the Water Moon Dungeon.
What awaits him at the end of the path, however, is neither treasure nor riches, but a legendary dragon that wastes no time swallowing him whole! Waking up a short time later, Rentt finds himself not quite dead, but not very alive either— He is nothing more than a pile of bones! Armed with nothing but his trusty sword, tool belt, and ghoulish new looks, Rentt sets off on his quest as a newly reborn skeleton to achieve Existential Evolution, hoping to one day return to civilization with a more human form.
Will Rentt succeed, or will the dungeon consume him for the rest of his un-death...?

Leseprobe

Prologue

This... This is bad.

That was the first thought that flashed across my mind as the monster before me opened its crimson red lips, rushing at me with its mouth wide open.

In a particularly rural corner of the lands was the Kingdom of Yaaran, and on the fringes of the kingdom was a small town by the name of Maalt. I, Rentt Faina, an adventurer of the lower-Bronze-class, found myself hunting weak monsters in the Water Moon Dungeon—a dungeon close to the township of Maalt. On this day, much like any other, I continued my relentless hunt for skeletons and goblins, assembling what little materials and magical ores I could along the way.

That was my daily routine after all. I basically did the same thing every day, returning to town in the evenings and off-loading my gathered materials at the adventurer’s guild for a humble sum of coin. That was what I had intended to do today, too, as I always had before.

However, this disruption to my well-established routine was sudden and abrupt—a quick wrench in the cogs, if you will.

Perhaps I should elaborate a little on the subject of dungeons. Since I had walked the chambers and paths of the Water Moon Dungeon every day, there was little to no possibility of me getting lost. Ironically, it was this familiarity that was my undoing, for I discovered what appeared to be a new path along my old and familiar routes.

I suppose one could call it bad luck. Yes, let’s go with that.

Under normal circumstances, I would have probably overlooked such a thing. Adventurers, after all, were supposed to be individuals who adventure, but the definition of “adventure” didn’t exactly include rushing into situations without any prior surveillance or planning. In reality, however, there were far more adventurers who simply charged headfirst into any situation—and as ashamed as I am to be counted among their number, I, too, have made such mistakes.

It would probably do me well to raise a single point in my defense here. To begin with, the Water Moon Dungeon was discovered ages ago. To find new paths and chambers in such a well-explored dungeon was virtually unheard of. In other words, it was a big discovery. One would summarily deduce that some sort of magical grimoire or weapon with a wildly ridiculous price tag lay at the end of this mysterious path. In addition, one could attain a certain degree of fame and fortune by charting a previously unexplored area of a dungeon.

And so it came to be that I entered this strange path, thoughts of potential riches clouding both my mind and my judgment. My short-lived exploration trip, however, did not end well. I soon found myself in a large chamber toe-to-toe with a monster of gigantic proportions. And when it rains, it pours—or so they say.

Of all things, the monster had to be a dragon. You know. Dragons. Monsters that stood at the top of the monster hierarchy. Normally, one would have to be a Platinum- or Mithril-class adventurer to even stand a chance against them, as they were the monster of monsters.

At a glance, it looked a little different from one’s usual vision of a dragon. While most dragons looked a certain way, this one was markedly different—like a large snake, or perhaps a frog. However, there was no mistaking that the monster in question was a dragon of some sort. That’s what I thought anyway.

Unfortunate adventurers who cross paths with dragons usually do not make it out alive to tell the tale. As dragons do not appear before people very often, eyewitness accounts are rare, perhaps historically so. In fact, you could count the existing recorded instances on one hand. Legend has it that there were no more than four of such dragons in the world, and their strength was said to even rival that of the demon king. Some would say that they were not monsters but instead divine beings, while others would say that they were beyond even that.

In other words, someone like me, who had been stuck in Bronze-class for eons despite their best efforts, would be utterly crushed and defeated if the dragon so much as lifted its little finger—for a while, I wondered if dragons actually had fingers.

So with a dragon appearing before me, I had no choice but to be surprised—I did not have any illusions or thoughts of fighting it at all. This, specifically, was why I decided to run. If I didn’t run, I would surely die. And so my feet began to move.

But then—

I guess the dragon really was the monster of monsters, because it quickly noticed my intention to escape. Perhaps it couldn’t help but notice, just like how my feet couldn’t help but freeze on the spot. Just like that, I found myself unable to move. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that my body itself refused to move. It didn’t even twitch. A normal individual would question why this was the case—if they were, say, a normal person who had never come face-to-face with a monster before.

However, because of my long tenure as an adventurer, it wasn’t difficult for me to understand this current phenomenon. Adventurers eventually learn to read their opponents regardless of their nature, be they human or monster. The pressure and aura released by a being of high strength was often enough to oppress and intimidate the weak; they say it is like being crushed by a heavy, invisible weight. At least, that was how the rumors went.

What I experienced was exactly that. Incapable of withstanding the pressure emanating from the dragon, I was unable to move, completely rooted to the ground. Realizing my situation, I wished from the bottom of my heart for the dragon to spare me. It probably wouldn’t. This, I knew for sure.

At that point, all I could do was stand and watch as the dragon advanced closer—all the while praying that it would change its mind about eating me. Reality, however, was not quite so forgiving.

After it caught sight of me, the dragon swiftly opened its mouth and charged in my general direction. Of course it was going to eat me—as expected. That was the conclusion I arrived at as I pondered, somewhat leisurely, in the face of death. At the same time, a little voice in my head reminded me of how dire the situation was, reminded me that I’d soon be dead. There wasn’t much I could do about it, however—my body simply wouldn’t move.

It had been about ten years since I first became an adventurer at the age of 15. Back then, I believed that I’d one day exceed Platinum-class rank and become one of the few legendary Mithril-class adventurers—that was my dream when I first started out. So, I took on simple quests, earning my daily keep as I continued dreaming of such a future. When I was done with my daily quests, I would continue my daily training regimen. Although I did all that, it seemed like my dream would end here.

It was pathetic; unfortunate, yes, but mostly pathetic.

With feelings of utmost regret, and a strange sense of release knowing that my relatively pointless life would end here and now, my body was engulfed by the mouth of the dragon—and that was that.

◆◇◆◇◆

What I was not expecting, however, was the strange sensation of waking up after an indeterminate period of time. It would seem that I had woken up, regardless of how sure I was that I’d been eaten by a dragon, and how I’d confirmed my death with these very eyes. Yet here I was, awake.

And then I noticed—

Wait. No, no no no. That’s impossible.

That’s what I thought as I woke up, confirming the situation around me.

This all seemed unfeasible, particularly the matter of what had happened to my body. I couldn’t process what was happening. Even so, first, a look at my hands was warranted.

It was then that the realization struck me. There was no flesh on my hands—though there should have been—and there was no skin, either. In fact, all that remained of what was once my hand were a series of thin, white bones.

—And that was all there was.

This strange ailment didn’t stop at my hands, however; it had apparently afflicted every inch of my body. My feet, too, were plain bone—no flesh or skin anywhere. Same went for my thighs, as well as both my arms.

As for my face, well... It wasn’t common practice for adventurers to carry compact mirrors. Needless to say, I didn’t have one. With an educated guess, I would assume that I probably had a skull for a face. In other words...

I, Rentt Faina, adventurer of the lower-Bronze-class, had apparently conducted a class change from “adventurer” to “skeleton” at some point in time.

Impossible...

Chapter 1: A Grasp of the Situation and Existential Evolution

I found myself at a complete loss. My first thought—What should I be doing?

For starters, it would be fair to say that I had definitely been eaten by the dragon. I supposed I should be grateful, even if I were alive in a somewhat non-human form.

Well, no. I could not be sure of that... Was I even alive in the first place? Skeletons were a type of undead monster, creatures that have already died once. As such, it would be easy for bishops and priests of the church to exorcise them with simple cleansing magic. If anything, they were exceptionally weak monsters.

The explanation behind cleansing skeletons was simple. Being a sack of walking bones, they were creatures brought forth against the divine logic of the gods. Other explanations included the more simple “they are dead and, as such, cannot exist on this world.” Succinct, but true. This continued defiance of the divine rules of life and death was apparently the prime reason for their weakness to said magic.

Personally, I had no idea if any of this held water. In the first place, I wasn’t a bishop or priest. However, the general argument for it seemed sound, and for myself at this point in time, it was a critically important piece of information. Plainly put, if I were to expand upon that logic, I was definitely very, very dead. More accurately, I was existing in the world as a dead pile of bones. This was a very bad thing indeed.

As I mentioned before, the fact that a dead being continued to exist apparently flaunted some severe laws of the divine nature. If I were to simply saunter back into town and enter a tavern as if nothing had happened, it would not end well. No matter how much I would claim that I was Rentt Faina, some no-good priest who spent all his time in the tavern from morning to night would chance upon me and then promptly get rid of me with his stave. If this were to come to pass, my existence would simply be erased. This was something I definitely wanted to avoid.

Such were the bones of the situation. On the bright side, I was still alive. Even if I were to exist as a skeleton and defy the laws of life and death, as far as I was concerned, my consciousness was intact; I was still very much alive. This was precisely why I could not simply skip back to town and carelessly get myself killed.

Well, then, what should I do? That was the burning question.

This was the Water Moon Dungeon; adventurers would certainly make their way to the dungeon as they always had, merrily killing what monsters they found along the way. Even for a relatively beginner-oriented dungeon populated by weaker monsters, adventurers stronger than myself often made their way here. If I appeared before such individuals, I would certainly be killed—for good this time.

Whatever, then, should I do...?

As I continued to think, a few strings of thought connected in my mind. It was perhaps safe to assume that I was now a monster of some sort. There’s a certain mysterious aspect to monsters: older and more experienced monsters tended to evolve into more powerful versions of themselves. This phenomenon was commonly referred to as “Existential Evolution.” Although I was not absolutely sure if I was a monster to begin with, I seemed to be some sort of walking skeleton at a glance. If that really were the case, then wouldn’t this concept apply to me, as well?

—The whole “Existential Evolution” thing, I mean. After all, having knowledge of monsters was sort of an occupational requirement for adventurers. If memory served, skeletons could apparently evolve into flesh-eating ghouls—at least, that’s what I remembered reading in a book about monsters some time ago.

Although ghouls were also a type of undead monster, and hence also went against the divine laws governing life and death, they at the very least had a more humanoid appearance than a skeleton did. Rotted and dried out though it may be, a ghoul even had flesh. With a robe and mask, I could perhaps pass for a human—those were my thoughts on the matter.

If I did this, I would be able to sneak into town rather uneventfully, and I would finally get the chance to explain the nature of this situation to my friends and compatriots. I was, of course, very much aware of the absurd nature of my plan. If anything, it was not very well thought-out. However, this was all I had to work with at this point.

I made a decision—

I would aim to somehow trigger this Existential Evolution. I, Rentt Faina, would evolve into a ghoul in the Water Moon Dungeon.

◆◇◆◇◆

The Existential Evolution from skeleton to ghoul was the first thing I had to address. Although I had already decided on that course of action, I was unsure of the extent of my combat abilities. I was only a low-ranked Bronze-class adventurer, near the bottom rungs of the guild. I did, however, fare better than Iron-class adventurers, who were the newest of the new. If I were to objectively state my combat prowess, I would say that taking down one or two goblins and skeletons was doable and well within safe limits. I could do at least that much—

Although I probably would not come out of it unscathed.

If there were three enemies, it would perhaps be a little more difficult, but I would still be able to win, somehow. If there were four enemies, I would definitely run; if there were five, I would be done for. That was how it looked at this point in time.

It would not be fair, however, to call me weak. I didn’t have much say in the matter to begin with, having begun my journey as an adventurer only a decade ago, but I had been training hard for almost 20 years. In fact, I would actually like some empathy here—I had trained for that long, but I could only do this much.

If one were to ask why I had spent that much time and effort training only to have nothing much to show for it, the answer was very simple: I didn’t have enough reserves of mana, spirit, or divinity. In addition, I didn’t have many of the abilities required to adequately control my already meager reserves of power. It could be said that this was a more-than-fatal issue for any budding adventurer.

Frankly speaking, I would actually appreciate some praise for having made it thus far.

I suppose I haven’t explained what magic, spirit, and divinity are. Let us talk about the nature of mana, to start. Mana is a required prerequisite for the casting of magical spells—the font of mysterious magical energy that some rare individuals are born with. If one were to put it simply, those blessed with mana at birth are able to conjure flames and wind without the use of any tools, to cause water to flow freely from nowhere, and to persuade the earth itself to move beneath their feet. In more ways than one, magic is a very convenient skill.

Although the ratios differed between the various races of sentient beings that populated these lands, one in approximately every 50 humans was born with mana in their being. This was no small number. However, only one in a thousand had enough mana and aptitude to actually become successful mages—such was the rarity of this blessing. As long as the user possessed a certain amount of mana, however, simple spells like the venerable Foteia Borivaas fireball, or the Gie Vieros earthen arrow, could be cast without too much trouble. Though, to proceed beyond rudimentary attack spells, one would require the aforementioned combination of mana and aptitude, which was available only to one in a thousand humans on average.

It’s perhaps worth mentioning that, while I did have some mana reserves at birth, they were pathetically low—hardly a fraction of what one would need to become a powerful mage. After all, I hadn’t been able to cast any low-level attack spells despite my long periods of training. My lack of talent in this field was painfully apparent.

I could, however, conjure water for drinking and embers to light campfires with. For that, I was grateful, even if said blessings were small ones. Yet it was extremely regrettable that I couldn’t use magic in combat.

Next, an explanation of spirit would perhaps be in order. Often referred to by a plethora of other names, such as “Chakra” or “Prana,” spirit is the life force of all living things.

Unlike magic, spirit is the root of all life, and as such is available to any and all living persons. If one were to use it well, one could strengthen their own body, augment their attacks, and even obtain stamina way above that of an average human. However, as most individuals subconsciously used spirit as a means of staying alive, few come to realize its true potential. On the other hand, even if one were to become aware of one’s own spirit, a significant amount of training was required to use it adequately, in addition to requiring a natural aptitude for channeling one’s life force.

In my case, I didn’t have enough command over my spirit reserves to actually utilize it effectively, even though I’d become aware of its existence. But even so, I did come up with the ability to amplify the force of a single attack by 1.5 times once in a single day—personally, I considered that ability my trump card. But although the augmented attack did carry a significant amount of force, it would certainly be seen as child’s play to an actual practitioner of the spirit arts.

Last but not least would be an explanation of divinity. I suppose you could say it is even rarer than the blessing of mana as most people have no affinity for it whatsoever. It is said that divinity is bestowed upon humans by divine beings, such as gods or faeries. Having any pool of divinity in oneself is considered a rare thing indeed, and most people blessed with it find themselves working for the church.

Depending on how one uses it, divinity is known for enabling the use of healing and cleansing spells which, on a rudimentary level, could be used to heal illnesses or purify the undead. Wielders of greater fonts of divinity are even able to purify vast tracts of corrupted land. In addition, due to its nature as an ability bestowed by divine beings, the lucky few with divinity in them find themselves able to communicate with faeries and gods. In some cases, they even rise to prominent social positions.

In this case, if we were just talking about a run-of-the-mill individual, they probably would not have a single trace of divinity in them at all. But I, for one reason or another, did have a sliver of divinity in me. That said, a sliver is a sliver, so greater tasks were beyond me.

If memory serves, this snippet of divinity originated from an event in my younger days, where I decided, for some reason, to fix a local run-down shrine of sorts. The spirits that inhabited that shrine probably saw fit to bless me, and that was that.

Although I had been able to use the divine arts a little since then, all I had managed to do was purify dirty water so it was safe for drinking, or to clear a wound of its infections. Things like closing wounds instantly or purifying corrupted land was, and still is, unfortunately beyond me. It is, however, still a very handy life skill to have. More often than not, I find myself thanking that faerie or spirit from the bottom of my heart.

And that concludes my explanation as to why it was difficult for me to continue in my capacity as an adventurer with only this much aptitude and ability. After all, the fonts of mana and divinity within me were small, and even I knew that I was not exactly cut out for adventuring.

It is perhaps worth noting that individuals with the ability to command and utilize all three abilities were very rare. In fact, I do not recall encountering another quite like myself. Unfortunately, with the important factor not being quantity but the degree of aptitude and power one has, one could also say that I was extremely unlucky.

Most individuals who aspire to be adventurers usually have a strong innate disposition to one of the three abilities—about, say, half of them were that way. Someone like me, who was neither here nor there, was very much a rare oddity. In fact, people like me would have probably just chosen a normal, non-combative job, and would live their entire lives out that way in relative peace. I, too, should have done that; at least, that’s what I would say in hindsight.

One thing prevented me from doing as I should have, though: the fact that I had a great dream.

From a young age, I had chased it, and have continued to do so—to become a Mithril-class adventurer. There was no way I could give up after all this time.

But as a result of my great dream, I appeared to have ended up as a skeleton of sorts. While nothing much could be said about that right now, I still didn’t feel like I should give up. Regardless of my current appearance, I was apparently not completely dead. While I had no idea why I was still alive to begin with, I felt like I was on the luckier end of things, given that my body still moved.

It is said that humans will find a way as long as they have life. They are able to achieve great feats precisely because they live. It was with that thought in mind that I continued to live on.

Come to think of it, being a skeleton wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Although it was a huge problem in and of itself, in addition to not knowing if I was truly alive, I could move, and thus was not entirely helpless. There was nothing inherently wrong with thinking that I could continue to work hard from now on, even in my current form.

Just to be sure, I gave the abilities I had when I was “alive” some short test runs. Mana, spirit, and divinity all seemed functional, having apparently followed me into the afterlife. I felt like I had more than enough to go on with these advantages. At the very least, I could say that I had quite the leg up from a typical skeleton monster of this level, who definitely would not have any of said abilities. I could probably fight with this—it was more than enough.

It’s also worth noting that while my aspirations to evolve into a ghoul sounded alarming, I had no intentions of eating human flesh. I was doing so just to obtain a more human form. Either way, I did not recall ghouls requiring human flesh for sustenance. If I were compelled to do so by instinct or some other reasons, I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

Perhaps I would do it in secret, or at least find some way to sate my hunger; for now though, that was not worth thinking about. More importantly, it was vital to verify the extent of my strength in combat and to continue my task of evolving into a ghoul.

To achieve that, I had to defeat the denizens—more accurately, monsters—of the dungeon I was currently in. Justifying my actions in doing so was simple: Existential Evolution was only triggered by monsters gaining more experience and strength with time—at least, that was how the typical explanation on the matter went.

The best textbook example of this would, ironically, be a dragon. Dragons, born as juveniles and eventually maturing over the years into an Ancient dragon, were a good illustration. However, dragons were monsters with a high amount of latent ability and power in the first place. Compared to dragons, skeletons simply remained skeletons, regardless of how much time had passed.

Undead monsters were very much dead after all. Even if they were to spend thousands of years standing in place, they would simply just exist. Accounts of undead monsters becoming stronger simply by standing in place were virtually unheard of. The logic behind this was simple: bones were bones. A pile of dead bones did not grow.

I once again found myself at a loss, but not for long. I had to gain experience; I had to fight.

It was said that monsters absorb the life force of other monsters should they fall in combat. This definitely held true, both for humans and monsters, with the core difference of humans remaining human regardless of how much strength they absorbed from fallen monsters. While there were many strong, seasoned fighters and adventurers, they were still human on the inside.

Monsters, however, differed from humans in this aspect—after obtaining a certain amount of experience and absorbed strength, the typical monster evolves into a stronger form via the phenomenon of Existential Evolution. Based on that, it would seem like my path had already been laid out for me.

Of course, the problem of whether or not I was really a monster to begin with still remained; even so, I would be able to find out easily via trial by combat. I viewed it as a prerequisite that had to be carried out before evolution.

As such, my first task was to locate and defeat a nearby monster.

As for monsters that even a simple skeleton could defeat... Slimes, goblins, and other skeletons came to mind. Thankfully, they could all be found within this very dungeon. Although I was currently in an unexplored section of the Water Moon Dungeon, I did recall seeing a number of monsters on the way here.

There were multiple theories as to why monsters existed in dungeons in the first place. All those theories, however, seemed to agree on the fact that monsters reappeared after a set amount of time once slain. The phenomenon, colloquially referred to as “re-popping,” would see monsters resurrect themselves at any time, within 30 minutes, or days, or sometimes years. Weak monsters in dungeons, in particular, were observed to reappear within approximately one hour.

While I could not precisely determine how much time had passed since I had been eaten by the dragon, I was sure the time required for said monsters to reappear had long passed. My death, after all, did not feel like a mere five- to ten-minute affair. Though it seemed silly thinking that my biological clock would make any sense, given that I was currently a dry pile of bones, all I had to do was wait around should my estimate of time be off.

With that in mind, I set off back toward the way I came in, having deemed this the fastest way to encounter another monster. Lifting my bony feet, I began to walk, returning to the worn path with a series of heavy steps.

Upon actually trying to move, however, I discovered that my body was painfully heavy—I supposed that I could not fight like I was able to in life. However, the fact that I could move somehow filled my heart with relief.

Although I was currently the weakest in the overall monster hierarchy, I was still considerably faster and stronger than an average human. I could only hope that it would somehow work out, but that could have simply been baseless optimism on my part.

As for my weapons, I found myself still equipped with my well-worn one-handed sword and armor from my previous life, so there appeared to be no problems in the equipment department. All other aspects of my combat potential, however, would have to be tested in the field.

It did not take long for me to cross paths with another monster, only about, say, five minutes after I had set off on my quest. My opponent, for better or worse, was just like me, albeit without any kind of weapons or armor—another skeleton.

◆◇◆◇◆

And so it came to be that I stood facing my adversary in the dark passageways of the Water Moon Dungeon. My opponent was a skeleton, just like me. A pale pile of bones, held together by the bare minimum of life force required for it to move about. It was unable to use magic, did not possess a shred of spirit, and was hardly able to channel divinity of any sort. It was, in all senses of the word, a normal skeleton.

As I readied my sword, the opposing skeleton stared in my direction, as if affirming my presence.

Clack clack clack!

Its bones clashed together, releasing a dreadful sound. If I didn’t know any better, I would think it was laughing at me.

Skeletons—

I’d fought them many, many times in my career as an adventurer. But now, I found myself freshly revolted by their existence, perhaps due to my newfound perspective.

Once a living thing became a pile of bones, it would definitely never stand again. However, the skeleton before me could move in spite of that, as a continued defiance of the divine laws of life and death. The more I looked at it, the more I felt that its existence in and of itself was a mockery of nature.

It occurred to me that I was probably viewed the same way by other human beings. No matter how I spun it, it seemed impossible for me to return to Maalt as I currently was. Once again reminded of that fact, I couldn’t help but sigh. Although, I didn’t have any organs for breathing, let alone lungs. Having become nothing but bones, I suppose this much was obvious.

I felt a fresh wave of shock wash over me at this revelation—the fact that I was now something completely inhuman was driven deep into my mind. There was not much I could do about it, though. That was just how things were now.

Although I felt I had already digested the facts of my newfound state as a skeleton, it would seem that many other things about this development still bothered me. If anything, I felt more hesitant than ever.

Despite that, I had no choice but to press on. I had to defeat this other skeleton before me and evolve into a ghoul at any cost! With that in mind, I put my backbone into the task, making a running start toward the opposing skeleton—

At least, that was what I had wanted to do. The speed at which I was advancing toward the other skeleton was, for lack of a better word, painfully slow. I suppose one could define it as a sort of run; a jog, maybe. However, the speed at which I was moving left much to be desired—it did not seem like a pace suited for combat. At the very least, I was faster than an average member of Maalt’s townsfolk. But I was still decidedly slower than the common adventurer, even the lowest-ranked Iron adventurers.

It would seem that my physical abilities had also been adversely affected by my untimely death. It was obvious, perhaps, if one thought about it. A skeleton was nothing more than a walking pile of bones. As all living things needed muscles of some sort to move, it was a miracle that skeletons could move at all—and a given that they did not move particularly well.

As if to prove my point, the opposing skeleton’s speed was also achingly slow. Thinking back on it, all the skeletons I had met up to this point moved in a similar fashion. If anything, it could be said that their sluggishness made them the perfect prey for Bronze-class adventurers such as myself. It was possibly thanks to them that I had continued existing as an adventurer for this long. But even if skeletons were easy prey for Bronze-class adventurers, I was currently a skeleton, as well. It was surely not going to be an easy fight; this much I realized the moment I raised my sword.

Although it was obvious that my swordplay would be a lot slower than it was in life, it was not as if I had suddenly forgotten how to swing my weapon. At the very least, I firmly recalled the basics. It was with that knowledge that I came to a simple conclusion: the only quick attack I had in my repertoire at this point in time was a simple downward swing. Just to be sure, I decided to test my theory. The results, however, were extremely disheartening.

For one thing, it was difficult to lift my sword. This was most likely due to the changes in my musculature, or lack thereof. Even so, I was greeted with more difficulties as I tried my best to lift my weapon. The combined weight of the sword, along with the force required to reverse the direction it had been traveling in, was considerably straining.

If my observations rang true, this was all due to a lack of muscles. In other words, all the techniques and movements that I had learned up until now could not be employed in this situation.

Once again, it occurred to me that this was an obvious fact. After all, the techniques I had learned were used and taught by humans. There wouldn’t have been a single technique or attack that was designed for the physique of a skeleton in mind.

Even so, I strove to work out a solution. If I simply stopped here and now, I would surely be defeated by the other skeleton and die, again. Perhaps, then, it was quite the stroke of luck that my first opponent was a sluggish and simple skeleton.

As I was busy testing out potential sword attacks, my opponent had picked up speed and was rushing in my direction—until it promptly slipped. As a result of its unfortunate fall, my opponent’s right leg bone had apparently dislodged itself. The skeleton was now sitting on the ground in a somewhat awkward position, desperately attempting to retrieve and reattach its detached leg.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the dark comedy of this scenario. At least, I wanted to laugh, but skeletons in general were incapable of producing such a sound. The only sounds a skeleton could make were rattling sounds, and that was about it. Without much of a choice, I decided to emulate the sound that the opposing skeleton had made when it first set eyes on me. A miserable series of clacks was the result of my attempt at laughter.

As if enraged by my bony laughter, the enemy skeleton jammed its detached bone back into its socket, then stood up and began rushing toward me once more. It seemed like it was serious about attacking me this time.

I couldn’t see this as a good thing—it most definitely wasn’t. Although skeletons were weak monsters, they had enough speed and power to kill a grown man—minus the typical adventurer, of course. With that being said, even the weakest Iron-class adventurer would take severe damage from such a blow.

While I was lost in thought, the skeleton’s charge hit me straight on, and we both fell onto the ground. I nervously looked for a way to counterattack, convinced that if I simply sat and did nothing, the other skeleton would surely kill me. But apparently, that was not necessary.

The reason for that was simple: the other skeleton simply did not attempt to attack. This was perhaps due to a combination of factors, including the fact that the momentum it was moving at, and the specific angle I was holding my sword, had caused my weapon to become firmly embedded in its skull. A truly serendipitous occurrence.

However, that much wasn’t quite enough—the enemy was an undead monster after all. If anything, the enemy skeleton seemed more irritated by the fact that its field of vision was now blocked by a sword sticking out of one of its eye sockets, as opposed to being bothered by the fact that the sword in question was a sharp, metallic instrument in its skull. It was also far from being dead.

Judging by everything I had seen thus far, it was fair to assume that skeletons did not possess much in the way of intellect or logic, even though they had a somewhat humanoid form. The skeleton that had attacked me was a good example, as it was thoroughly confused by the current developments, and apparently could not decide what to do.

Capitalizing on this chance, I quickly grabbed the handle of my blade, placing what force I could onto the weapon. I had thought to simply push the blade through, given that it had been so conveniently impaled into the enemy’s skull. I was, however, reminded of the unfortunate fact that I was an almost-powerless skeleton. After all, bone was a material used to make armor, and it was considerably hard. The enemy’s skull probably wouldn’t shatter with what little strength I had. Even if I tried to put my body into the attack, it would not work, as I did not have much of a body to begin with.

I found myself at a complete loss.

I had to somehow channel more power into the blade’s hilt, no matter the cost. If this went on, I would probably be stuck mud-wrestling this skeleton forever. It was greatly undesirable for my first battle to drag on for hundreds of years.

Drawing my mind back from its hopeless daydream, it occurred to me that I should at least attempt to use one of the abilities I had acquired in life. For all intents and purposes, I was not a normal skeleton, and I should be exploiting that fact to the fullest.

I had become too caught up in the matter that I was currently a skeleton and had forgotten that I had defeated many skeletons in my previous life. In fact, I used to be able to defeat skeletons with nothing but brute force. I even had mana, spirit, and divinity at my disposal.

Although normal skeletons were not aware of it, their movements were powered by magic, as well. As a result, skeletons possessed a higher measure of speed and power than the average person, hence their classification as monsters. Since I was no longer human myself, it occurred to me that I should be using my newfound capabilities as a monster as much as possible too.

Among the three abilities available to me, spirit was the one that was the most suitable for an application of brute force—and as such, the most suitable for my current situation.

Having finally arranged my thoughts, I began to focus, surrounding my body with spirit energy. Amidst considerations that I had last used this ability when I was more than just a pile of bones, I had no idea if it would actually work. But I had to test it out somehow. If it didn’t work, then I would have to rely on simple force. If it did, on the other hand...

I was known in life for pushing forward even if things seemed grim. It didn’t make sense to simply give up now.

Table of Contents

Cover

Color Illustrations

Prologue

Chapter 1: A Grasp of the Situation and Existential Evolution

Chapter 2: Rina the Adventurer

Chapter 3: A Certain Undead’s Town Infiltration

Chapter 4: The Water Moon Dungeon and Troublesome Restrictions

Chapter 5: Proof of Inhumanity

Side Story: The Day When Rentt Snapped ~Adventurer Lorraine’s Sixth Year~

Afterword

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Color Images

Table of Contents