Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Chapter 1175: Meeting An Old Friend (1)

A group of beasts of different kinds - goblins, boars, lizardmen, bears, Dare wolves and many more - bunched up in neat rows, all standing on two legs and doing a funny dance where they threw up their right feet into the air, then their left ones and arched their torsos to the right slickly - some with a nasty crunch that caused them to shriek in pain as their bones cracked - marched through the deeper part of the Tremur forest.

Their march and movements rang through the trees and grasses with a strange, sombre rhythm that hardly had the capacity for levity. Bestial screams were mixed into the sound of their feet thumping, and it was likely these sounds of agony that forced some of the creatures that would have pounced at anything that breathed, to hide and merely watch from the shadows under the harsh sun.

"How delightful. I don't know if I've mentioned this already, but you all enjoy some unnecessary gifts in flexibility up here! I can't get enough of this!" Ashema cried jubilantly from the skies where he puppeteered the mass of two hundred beasts with strings of blood that oozed from his fingertips and branched out to attach themselves to his victims.

His eye gleamed, his expression trembling with joy as he saw hooves and dirty feet fly up. Blood was pumping, heating up within the bodies of the ensnared, and this greatly excited him. Ashema had hardly gotten a chance to mess with as many of the surface dwellers as he would have liked over the last few days, but today, he got his chance.

Ashema was a Carven with shiny grey skin over his face which featured two, great, twisted ebony horns and a fierce, red eye. He wore what might have been called a blasphemous set of armour from which, burnt-looking, scabbed limbs protruded freely, heavily emphasising that where Ashema was born, there might have been great heat, but no light.

As a Carven, Ashema had always considered the creatures that lived above him, above his master's domain - the Under - as the prizes of the traitorous trio of Deities that had locked his master below, forcing him to create a world limited in every sense of the word. Thus, Ashema felt no small amount of glee from torturing beast and man alike.

So far - as evidenced by the blood stains on his grey face - the Carven had amused himself by donning the cleaved and cleaned head of a goblin whom he had had a particularly delightful time torturing. To Ashema, it was quite comical to be heading the dancing beasts below while wearing the face of one their own.

He had used one boar's spine to conduct his dance group as well, but when that proved too difficult in conjunction with some of the moves he had been forcing upon the hundreds of beasts, he had settled for simply watching as they broke, cracked and shattered for him. Of course, Skullius didn't mind.

This might have been the best thing that attracted Ashema to this man.

He didn't care when he, Ashema, had drained the blood from a family of a six they had passed on their way to the Tremur Forest, having them all turn into human raisins that he munched on as snacks for the trip.

Skullius had said nothing when Ashema had used a few children to try out how his blood incarnation worked with shorter, smaller humans. The Carven had almost gotten the impression that Skullius would have helped if he could.

Since their meeting in Opungale, Ashema couldn't deny that he had grown fonder and fonder of the individual he had decided to follow and enjoy the exploits of as a spectator. Well, a devout spectator.

"This is all in your honour, you know!" Ashema yelled, his eye turning to look below, at the back of dark, swaying robes.

The one who wore these robes, which seemed steeped in the same ink that made what the living called 'the night', did not turn for Ashema.

His light auburn hair, slicked back stylishly, was illuminated vaguely by a beautiful, shining gem that was suspended above him - the Heart of Revelation.

Below his feet - for which it was hardly clear whether they were encased in any protective footwear at all because of an intense darkness from his robes - a deep, dreadful shadow that took many different forms and shapes every ten seconds cast itself wide, sometimes licking at the trees and grasses around him, causing beasts that had been brave enough to draw close to scurry away in terror.

"In my honour, is it?" Skullius said, and his spotless, blameless face was raised in a casual smile. "I'm almost charmed."

The great robes he wore seemed to echo his words. Their edges, which stood parallel before his chest were cast in bright gold clover patterns, elevating their beauty several fold. However, if one did not look close enough, they might have been made to believe that Skullius wore an additional set of robes below the one that was seen; none of his features beyond the open robes were clear, after all. They were all covered in chilling darkness all the way to his feet.

The movement of his legs was masked in the robe's shadow, and perhaps it was because of this reason that his steps made no sound at all.

Ashema groaned.

"You've been lost in thought ever since we left that place. Maqi, was it? Are you still thinking about your great plans for how exactly you will leave this world with a whole nation behind you? Or was it perhaps, an empty promise?" he asked.

Skullius' blank eyes narrowed.

"I don't make empty promises. And I haven't been pondering over those meatheads. No, I have more pressing matters... concerns and prospects," Skullius said, and his smile grew wider. "Ah. It seems we are here."

The dense forest around him and Ashema along with his puppets suddenly split to form a vast, desert-like plateau.

There seemed to be nothing impressive about it, but Skullius remembered the feeling he had got from this place all those months ago when he, Benzard, Irlen, Reon and Denille had reached it, rich with ambition and resolve - well, the four humans, at least.

Skullius gave a long look towards the plateau.

The golden-brown soil that made it extended as far as the eye could see, but of course, back then, it had transitioned into a darker hue that had caused him much dread. A particularly powerful beast had stood guard, its Dormant Territory protecting the 'treasure' hidden here. "Is this what we are looking for?" Ashema said curiously and he made the beasts under his control start to do what might have been push-ups.

"Yes," Skullius said, and a soft breeze beat at his face, whipping his auburn hair back. "Sadly, as I don't have any of the keys required... Well, I wasn't here for this anyway."

The Hybrid Luman brought his hands together and cupped them. He then blew into the shape they made and a strange whistle blew out from it, ringing far and wide.

Ashema drifted low, reaching Skullius' side just as he finished the whistle.

"Are you calling someone?" he asked.

Skullius chuckled.

"Yes. An old friend. Though, I'm not sure he still considers me as such."

Right then, birds perked on some trees in the distance flew away and the thumping of great

paws against the ground sounded.

Soon, a great, furred beast emerged from the cluster of trees from Skullius' right and he

turned with a welcoming smile.

"Long time no see. Or, I suppose not at all."

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